The War
by UnderneathTheBunker
Summary: What drove Sam to run away to Flagstaff? An unexpected turn of events on a hunt almost tears the family apart. WARNING: disturbing imagery.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first time writing anything like this. I'm quite dyslexic and edited this myself so apologies in advance for mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Warnings: Nothing too graphic but really, really horrific subject matter.**

**Chapter One.**

The moment John walked into the house he felt a heavy sense of dread. It was the smell, he would realise later, whilst pouring gasoline over the bodies. It should have been fairly routine, a poltergeist. He'd been told. All signs pointed to a haunting.

If he'd known it was a demon he would never have bought the kids.

That smell... the metallic sickly smell of fresh blood. It assaulted them as they approached the front door. He stalked slowly into the darkened room. Putting a hand up , signalling the boys to hang back. He swept his flashlight around.

A smashed coffee table. Signs of a struggle, a stain on the carpet, bloody footprints leading into the next room. The door was half closed. A light was on inside.

There was a noise coming from that room, a soft , barely perceptible sound. Like a whistle? A Whimper maybe?

He moved forward beckoning the boys to follow. He could hear Dean's heavy boots as his oldest bought up the rear. His well trained boy would have their backs he was sure of that. He heard Sam's shaky breathing close behind him. That was to be expected, he supposed, the kid was only just fourteen. It wasn't the first time his youngest had come along on a hunt. But they had all been fairly standard, except for the werewolf in Portland.

This, however... Was something different. John didn't scare easily, not any more, but the last time he'd felt this level of fear he'd been soaked in sweat and jungle swamp water in Vietnam walking into a small village.

_"There's something off about this Sarge, I can feel it"_

_" No fucking kidding Private. We've been lead into a trap"_

_"A...A Trap?"_

_"The houses up ahead are quiet...There should be noise, There should be kids playing."_

There was something off about this one too. John could tell. It was too obvious, almost as though...

John sniffed... _Sulphur_.

_Almost as though the hunt had been handed to him on a plate._

He'd regret it later. He'd kick himself for it for years, He should have turned around and rushed the boys out the house right then, but he didn't. It was almost as though he was compelled to slowly push that door open. A bedroom.

A child's bedroom, a mobile hung from the ceiling, a wallpaper border of ducks. She was lying on the floor. The woman, _the mother , _staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Her blood staining nearly the whole carpet, almost up to where he was standing. Eviscerated. Her face frozen in agony. Her arms reaching out to the crib.

He suddenly realised what the noise was.

Almost before he could fully take in the scene in front of him he was pushing the boys back into the living room. It was too late. He turned and bumped right into Sam. He had been standing right against his father's back shaking. Pale as a sheet , his mouth moved, but no sound came out. John was gripped with the sudden desire to cover the boy's eyes as though they were watching a scary movie.

But this was no horror movie.

"Dean!'" He choked out. Dean had his hands on Sam' s shoulders, he was looking passed John at the wreckage of the room, his eyes on one thing only, frozen to the spot. "Dean!" he barked again, reaching over Sam's head and tapping the older boy's cheek. "Get him out of here!"

Dean snapped out of his daze immediately and gasped as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He looked like he was going to vomit.

"Sammy!" He said quietly, his eyes widening. He pulled his unresponsive younger brother away from the door and back through the living room.

John waited until the boys had run back outside before he crossed himself and walked into the bedroom. Knowing what he had to do.

Sam felt himself being pulled, Dragged really. He stumbled, but Dean kept going until they were outside on the front porch.

He dropped then, landing on his knees by a potted tomato plant. Dean leaned on the door frame beside him and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down. Then pitched forward, and threw up into the plant.

Sam couldn't bring himself to look back through the door. He turned his head and looked out at the yard, at the Impala in the red, dusty driveway. He felt as though he were floating a couple of inches above the ground. Like he was dreaming.

_God! wouldn't it be great if this was a nightmare and I could wake up now? I'd cry like a little baby and beg Dean to let me sleep in his bed with him._

"Oh God!" Dean groaned, spitting . Then hooked an arm around Sam, pulled him to his feet , dragged him down the porch steps and across the dirt. If he could get them into the car they'd be half way gone from this place, If he could get Sammy into the car he could put the radio up loud and they wouldn't have to hear it...

They were halfway there when they heard the gunshot. Dean cringed, desperately wanting to put his hands over his ears. A lump rose in his throat and tears blinded him as he gripped Sam tighter. Which was just as well because at the sound the boy began to struggle and try to break free.

"Dad!" he screamed as he tried to run back to the house. "DAD!" He was hysterical. Dean pinioned his brother's arms.

"No Sam! It's ok, It's ok! Come with me ok?"

"But... Dean He's... He's hurt!"

Dean swallowed hard. Sam was in shock, wasn't thinking straight. Well he sure as hell didn't have it in him right now to snap the kid out of it and explain the situation so he redoubled his grip and collapsed onto his ass, pulling his brother down with him.

'He'll be out in a minute" he said quietly, setting his jaw to stop the tremors. "We'll wait for him ok?"

Sam said nothing just half sat, half lay in his brothers lap in the red dirt and stared at the open door, willing his father to walk out.

When he finally did neither boy moved. Just watched as he staggered out into the sun, blinking his red eyes. Sam thought he really must be dreaming. Dad didn't cry. Ever.

He didn't look at them, just walked passed them and got something out of the trunk then went back up the porch steps. He was inside for what felt like forever, then re-appeared. When Sam saw John pour the the can of gasoline over the front steps he began to struggle again. Kicking at Dean's legs in an attempt to get out of his paralysing grip.

"Dad!" he cried "No!"

John turned his head.

"Dad!' he squeaked painfully as Deans arms crushed his ribs. "Don't burn the house! You have to get her!"

John stared incredulously at his youngest, taking in the pale face and dilated pupils.

"Who?" he croaked

"The baby!"

"What?" John whispered barely moving his lips.

Sam was looking at him with total sincerity , big brown eyes pleading.

"She's still _alive_ Dad!"

Dean had been staring at his brother, his eyes wide and horrified. He knew the kid was shocky and out of it but he was really starting to worry now. Sam's last statement crushed him like a ton of bricks. The memory of the room suddenly overwhelming him. he look of terror on the woman's dead face. The... _Noises _coming from the crib. Weak noises. Dying sounds.

He started to cry. _Oh Jesus! Not in front of Dad. Not now._ He dropped his head, trying to muffle his sobs in Sam's hair.

Sam shut his eyes. Hoping that when he opened them he'd be back at the motel, in bed. This couldn't have happened. _This isn't real_.

John couldn't look at his children like that. He turned and lit a match, dropping it on the bottom step. Then he watched the house burn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

Bobby Singer was a good judge of character. A life of paranoia will do that to you. He was able to discern a lot from a gesture, a word, tone of voice.

So when he blearily picked up the phone late that night and heard John Winchester's voice, even through a haze of Jack Daniel's He knew right away that something was badly wrong. In fact, his first thought was that something had happened to one of the boys.

"Hello?"

_"Bobby."_

"John?"

John's breath was shaky on the other end of the line.

"John? What happened? Are you ok?"

_"...Yeah, Listen Bobby, the poltergeist in Midway didn't go so well."_

"Jesus! John are the Boys ok?"

_"Y...Yeah. They aren't hurt. Just shaken up a bit. We need somewhere to stay for The night."_

Bobby sighed with relief.

" You think you need to ask Ya Idjit?"

John laughed, Bobby didn't like the sound of it. It was out of character.

"Thanks Bobby, see you in a couple of hours."

Bobby wandered into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, if his instincts were correct it was going to be a long night. It wouldn't be the first time John played down a bad hunt or an injury. What was that Jackass hiding this time? He sighed. Hunters with kids always rubbed him the wrong way. Carting them around like luggage, exposing them to the darkness from the word go.

Of course in John's position he would probably have done the same thing. He wanted his kids with him, to keep them safe it was understandable. He would never trust anyone else with them. No, he just trusted them to take care of themselves for extended periods of time.

Bobby had offered many times to take the boys wile John went on longer hunts. But John wouldn't hear of it. Said they needed to learn to be self sufficient. Bobby didn't like it, two kids on their own like that, usually in the seediest lodgings imaginable. In the worst neighbourhoods. For someone who knew what was out there, aware and educated on the nature of evil. John seemed oblivious to more mundane dangers.

He'd never forget the first time he met the boys. Well, his first encounter. They had only met properly a few days later.

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It was about two years after John started hunting. He'd met the guy at the roadhouse, he'd been gathering information on strange weather patterns , one of Bobby's specialities, and they'd bonded immediately. It was clear that John hadn't had a friend in quite some time.

After a couple of hunts together he learned that John had two kids, Bobby assumed they were living with a relative. John didn't talk about them much, he guessed John didn't want their whereabouts to be common knowledge. Then one day, he got a call from John asking him to check on them.

"Where?"

_"The Starlight Motel. Just Outside of Ogden. Its not far from you right? "_

"A Motel?"

_"Yeah, they should be fine, its just that I tried to call them earlier and the phone's engaged. I think they probably left it of the hook but..."_

" John, It's Ok. I'll go check on them for you."

_"Thanks Bobby I owe you one. The oldest is Dean, he'll probably be a bit wary of letting you in but I've told him about you before so he knows you're a friend. Sammy's the baby."_

It was raining heavily when he pulled into the _Starlight_. It was run down but secluded, out in the middle of nowhere, safer than a town centre, he supposed.

He rapped on the door and heard a shuffling inside, someone dragging something across the floor. Then the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. He held his breath.

"Whose there?" A small voice demanded. The fear in it palpable.

"Hi, um ... Sammy? I'm Bobby Singer, a friend of your Dad's."

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah... Yeah he's fine, he called me, said he couldn't get through to you on the phone. Are you ok? Is Dean there?"

"I'm Dean."

From the vague way John had talked about them before, Bobby had expected them to be young teenagers, twelve or thirteen at least, and 'baby' a figure of speech, not an honest to god bawling diapered infant. He had definitely not expected the oldest to have to stand on a chair to see through the peep hole of the motel door.

"Jesus, Um... Dean can I come in?" He asked the child, he had to see this for himself.

" No."

Bobby blinked. "Listen I know you're scared but I just want to make sure every thing's ok."

"We're fine. I think the phone line got hit by lightning last night." The little voice explained.

"Dean he asked me to check on you, I'm a friend I promise. I won't hurt you."

There was silence for a moment, then the sound of footsteps.

"Daddy?" An even smaller voice piped up ''Daddy there?"

Bobby found himself getting steadily angrier with John and more upset with the situation by the second.

"Go back to bed Sammy. It's ok." The older child whispered loudly. "It's ok" he said again as though trying to convince himself.

Bobby tried again. "Dean how long has he been gone now?"

"A..A few days." the boy replied . His voice cracking.

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

Bobby took a deep breath. "He said he told you about me?"

"Yeah, he said you were a good hunter, that you knew a lot of stuff."

"Well that's true son, for instance I know that you've been told never to let anyone but daddy into your room right?"

Silence

"Well that's a good rule Dean but this is an emergency and your father made an exception for me. So can I come in? Please?"

There was a long moment of silence, he could hear the child's terrified panting through the door. Eventually the boy replied.

"No! and if you don't leave right now I'll shoot your ass right through this door."

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Bobby smiled Grimly at the memory as he waited for his friends to arrive. He hadn't had the guts then to confront John, Hadn't known him well enough to judge, but he'd had an open door policy with the Winchesters after that. He wanted those kids to have a place to feel safe. He wasn't kidding himself, he knew they'd become blunted to the fear and horror over time, hell Dean was already fairly jaded, hunters needed to be. He just wanted to give them some stability, some sense that the world isn't just darkness and evil.

They piled through the front door at about 2 am. John looked shattered, His face drawn and pale. Bobby knew right then that something more serious had gone down than a poltergeist. A ghost did not do that to John Winchester.

John had herded the two boys ahead of him, pushing their exhausted bodies through the door. Bobby had seen those kids in a bunch of different states of disrepair. He'd seen them bloody and bruised and downright terrified. He'd seen them sulking and fighting plenty of times. but never like this.

They were _clutching_ each other. They didn't do that, ever. Sure they hugged sometimes and roughhoused a lot in a good natured way, but as a rule, physical contact was for joking around or when someone was severely messed up. Yet here they were standing in front of him. Dean's arms wrapped around Sam's shoulders like a vice, Sam holding his brothers hands tight. They both looked blank, hollowed out. Dean had clearly been crying, and that alone was enough to make Bobby's blood run cold. Sam looked dead on his feet. Half asleep. Neither of them would look at him.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded. "John?"

John sighed and ran his hand down his face. "Hi Bobby. Nice to see you too." he muttered as he hustled the kids towards the staircase. He grabbed Dean's chin and made the boy look at him. "Go to bed." he said softly. Dean nodded. "Sammy?" John said, reaching down and touching his son's head. Sam jumped at the touch and shied away. John sighed and shook his head. "I'll be up shortly." he said.

When the kids had gone upstairs and Bobby had poured some coffee into him John seemed to come back to life a bit. He sat on the battered couch and stared into his mug.

"So?" Bobby asked "What went wrong? I thought it was a routine haunting?"

"I thought is was Bobby. It seemed ..." he paused. "It was too obvious, I should have seen that."

"So it wasn't a poltergeist?" Bobby asked, confused

"Oh I'm sure it was, well a poltergeist too, but... It was there as bait."

"Bait for what? John?"

"For me."

"You mean it was..."

"The Demon Bobby. I'm sure of it. It was taunting me. It knows I'm on it's trail."

"Goddamn it!" Bobby sat up straight. "What did it do?"

"It was gone by the time we got there" , John said quietly, defeated. "The woman who called about the spirit was dead. Jesus !" John put his tired face in his hands. "There were pieces of her all over the room and..." He shut his eyes. " She had a baby."

"Oh God!" bobby whispered. Did the boys?"

"They saw it all, I wish I'd got them out of the house, I just..."

"John it's ok.."

"No it's not ok! " John snapped. " I _know_ Bobby! I know we're at war, I know what war is like and no, it not ok. They..." He gestured up the stairs "are never going to be the same after this! I was never the same after..."

"After what?' Bobby had never seen John like this before.

"Never mind." John muttered, sipping his coffee.

"After the war?"

John looked up from his cup for a moment and Bobby caught a glimpse of something. The John that used to be, non hunter John. The young man that still had the capacity to be horrified.

" I was a year older than Dean." He whispered. "I was Nineteen when I was drafted. and I have never forgotten... " He wiped his hand over his eyes. " Still, after everything that I've seen, everything I've hunted I have never forgotten seeing that first dead child. That changed me and... Sammy, he's fourteen, he's a kid. He shouldn't have had to see that."

Bobby swallowed over the lump in his throat. Knowing there was nothing he could say.

John got up and headed for the stairs. "Night Bobby, I'd better go check on them."

Bobby wondered what the fallout would be for Dean. Kid was barely eighteen and already had the world on his shoulders. More responsibility than most adults he knew. Thing is, he'd had that haunted look ever since Bobby had known him, and he knew how hard the kid worked to keep it out of his brother's eyes.

_The world will do that to you though,_ He thought to himself. _Give you gifts like innocence and idealism and take them away from you. Replace them with abilities like reading a face or knowing when an important fact is omitted from a story._

_I wonder what really happened at that house?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Dean finally let go of Sam when they were sitting side by side on the double bed in Bobby's spare room. He slowly began to unlace his boots and throw his clothes in a pile on the floor. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck. He hadn't been able to look the old man in the eye earlier. He knew what it must have done to his Dad to have to... Do what was needed. He should have been there for him, and instead he'd broken down like a pussy. He just couldn't face it, not right now.

He turned to Sam, who was sitting beside him, on the verge of sleep. He'd been pretty out of it since the hunt. He wouldn't say a word or look at either Dean or John. Dean hated to admit it but It suited him for the moment. It beat having the screaming, hysterical Sam from earlier clinging to him. He wondered if the kid had clicked yet, realised what Dad had done. He had flinched when Dad touched him earlier. He'd have to keep an eye on that. He couldn't have Sam blaming Dad for that. It would destroy the man to think either of them held that against him.

He remembered when they were kids they'd been staying at a motel right on a two lane highway and a cat had been hit right in front of them. Clipped by the wheel of a VW bug. They'd seen it from the window. Sam had screamed and wanted to go out and see if it was still alive. Dean had gone out, leaving Sam by the window.

He'd searched around in the grass verge and found it still breathing, but mangled beyond all hope of recovery. He'd looked up at Sam's tear stained face and shaken his head. 'Dead" he'd mouthed. Then later, while Sam was watching TV Dean had snuck out with the pistol and put the thing out of it's misery.

Dean loved animals, always had. He couldn't let it die in pain like that , all alone. He remembered the sick shaky feeling he had right after, getting sick from it in the bushes outside. The terrible guilt later when he was in bed thinking about what he had done. How old had he been? About eight or nine he guessed. To this day he'd never told anyone about that. Even after all the monsters he'd ganked.

He sighed, Sam wasn't making a move to get to bed, he pulled off his , pretty much catatonic, brother's jacket and flannel shirt. Wincing at the bruises he'd left on the kids arms when he'd grabbed him earlier, preventing him from running into the house.

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Whenever Sam closed his eyes he saw the baby. He had only glimpsed her for a couple of seconds but he felt as though he'd never seen anything so clearly in his life.

He'd been terrified walking across the room. Of all the things he'd encountered so far that half open door was the scariest. That faint noise, what was it? A squeak? A wheeze? Something was alive in there. He had been ashamed of how close he was walking behind dad, Like he was using his father's body as a shield. He'd felt Deans hand touch his shoulder.

Then the door had swung open and all he had been able to look at was the red carpet. Which was in fact a tan carpet, and the woman lying there with her insides on the outside. The smell of blood was overpowering. There was another smell too. Like rotten eggs. Then his eyes had followed the line of the woman's arms to the crib, One side of the crib was ripped away and he could see her. In much the same condition as her mother, but not as bad, still breathing. Every exhale making that awful sound. He couldn't look away. God help him he really wanted to but he couldn't .

He knew it was a girl because of the pink socks. Tiny little socks on her twitching feet. Whenever his eyes drifted closed he'd see her looking at him with agonised blue eyes. Begging.

So his eyes would snap open again with a start. He gasped. Dean looked up at him. He was untying Sam's shoes for him.

"Hey, you ok?" he asked. _Stupid question._

Sam nodded but said nothing, he couldn't open his mouth, if he did, terrible things would be said that he wouldn't be able to take back.

_She had been alive. _

Any sign of life was so rare in their line of work. It was funny. The first thing he felt upon seeing her was horror because seriously who... _What_ could do something like that to a baby? To _Anyone?_ But it was swiftly followed by relief because, she was breathing, alive! There was that spark of life still in there. They could save her, or at least try to.

"Sammy?"

He startled out of his daze again.

"Sammy lie down, lets get some sleep dude."

He nodded wordlessly and got into bed, burying his face in the soft pillow. He felt his brother's hand on the back of his head.

"It'll all be better when you wake up."

Dean's favourite platitude. He doubted it.

There were another two beds in the room but Dean got in beside him. _Thank you _he thought before he was swallowed by sleep.

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John put his head around the door. They were asleep in the double bed. He smiled sadly. Dragging himself over to the bunk beds and throwing himself down on the lower one. he was glad they were asleep. He wasn't sure he could handle the traumatised looks he'd put on their faces. And the hurt accusatory look in Sam's eye.

He hoped he would be able to sleep. He was going to need it. Because first thing tomorrow he was going to start tracking town that demonic son of a bitch once and for all. This would be the last time he was fucked with by that bastard. The last time it touched his family in any way.

He looked across at the other bed and saw that Dean was awake. Looking up at the ceiling.

"Dean?" he whispered

Dean's eyes shone in the faint moonlight from the window. He didn't reply.

"You ok son?"

"Yeah Dad, I'm fine." He whispered.

"What happened today son..." He swallowed "I know it was hard..."

"Part of the job Dad" Dean replied. His voice rough.

John turned over. That was something he could always depend upon, No matter what was going on around him Dean was steady. Dean was fine. The world could collapse around him but Dean would hold them up. Just as long as they were together. Sometimes it terrified him how much he needed that kid for his own sanity.

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Bobby had dropped off in his chair. It happened sometimes. when he was researching mostly. Tonight it had been pure fatigue. The wall clock said 4 am He thought he had been woken by a sound. maybe Sam had a nightmare? Looking around he saw the door slightly ajar The old hunter reached behind his chair for his shotgun.

Careful not to make a sound he made his way slowly to the front door. Opening it wider with the muzzle of the gun.

He was surprised to find Dean on the front porch, standing stock still, looking out into the night. Glassy eyed.

"Dean? Holy Hell you scared me boy!"

Dean didn't reply.

"Dean?" Bobby waved his hand in front of the boy's face. _He's sleepwalking. Never known him to do that before._

He took the kid's arm and gently lead the him inside. "Lets get you back to bed Magellan" he grumbled under his breath.

Bobby set him down ton the couch. Thinking that getting him back upstairs might prove difficult and wake the others. Might as well sleep where he was. Dean mumbled something.

"Dean? You say something?"

"B..Bobby?" He whispered "Bobby please don't tell them..." He trailed off

"About what son?" He asked.

"About the cat... I had to ..."

The kid wouldn't lie down , he kept righting himself into a sitting position. Bobby gave up and covered him with an old knitted blanket "No worries Dean I won't tell anyone about the cat."

Suddenly Dean started crying. Tears running down his face. Bobby sat down beside him. Should he wake the kid? He'd heard somewhere that you shouldn't... Or was that should? Screw it! He reached out and took the boy's hands.

"It wasn't his fault." He whimpered "he had to do it, ... "Wouldn't" he hiccoughed through his tears "Wouldn't have made it."

"Shhh! It's ok" Bobby whispered. As Dean rocked himself back and forth.

"It had little pink socks." breathed Dean.

"The cat had pink socks, Ok Kiddo. Just go to sleep now."

"No!" He sobbed. "The baby"

Bobby froze.

"little girl" , he sighed, "pink socks."

Bobby felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Dean seemed to have stopped crying. He pushed the kid onto his side and lifted his legs onto the couch.

"Shhh Lie down." He soothed. "It'll all be better when you wake up."

**Ugh! I feel kind of sickened with myself I hope that didn't horribly offend anyone.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Sam slowly zoned out. He lay motionless on his stomach. The exhaustion finally winning out over the memories of that room. He heard Dad going to bed, He was too tired to acknowledge his presence. He was vaguely aware of some noises. Dad saying Dean's name. He heard Dean's voice beside him, saying something, something about the Job.

"Part of the job."

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He was back in the room. It was empty now. The red carpet under his feet. Blood started running down the walls too, seeping around his boots , He tried to run but he couldn't move.

There was a man standing in front of him.

"Hello Sammy." He smarmed. Then his eyes flashed yellow. _A demon! _ Sam tried to speak but no sound came out.

_Let me go! _ He thought at the man.

"Why?" Asked the demon cocking an eyebrow "This is your life Sam. Don't you want to be here?"

_No! let me GO!_

"Go! I'm not stopping you! Make the choice. You could be free to be whatever you're meant to be, like all your little school friends. Why should they get to have lives while you're stuck in this prison of fear and death?"

The blood was up to his ankles now. It was warm . He shuddered.

"You ever feel like you're _drowning_ Sammy? Drowning in evil ? In your family's fear? In their clinging possessive love? They never let you do anything, or go anywhere alone. Never let you do anything normal kids do. You ever wonder why?"

_To protect me from things like you! _He mentally yelled.

"You think it's to protect you? Because they know all the _awful _things that can happen to a little boy? _Wrong!_ It's because they know that the second you get out from under them. The second you're your own man, they'll never see you again!"

_That's not true! I love them! I wouldn't!_

" That's right Sammy, you do. " He chuckled. Slowly walking around the room. wading through the knee high blood. He climbed onto the bed and opened his arms.

"You think this is a one off?" You think this was the first time your daddy had to kill an innocent? It won't be the last I can tell you that! " He laughed, his eyes glowing.

"How many hours have you spent alone waiting for them to come home from a hunt? Thinking that maybe this time they wont? Hunters don't have much of a life span boy! They're obsessed, they're driven by grief and anger and you know what? they'll get in over their heads eventually, when they start getting older. They always do, and you! Little Sammy , the younger, stronger, faster one will be the one who will have to deliver the coup de grace to Dean or John one day. "

_Not if they kill you all first!_

The demon continued as if he hadn't heard. He lowered his voice to a near whisper and looked Sam right in the eye. Sam couldn't move his head to look away.

"You think you're cut out for mercy killing boy?" The thing asked. " You think you could look at someone you love and..." He smirked... "Shoot them in the heart? Or put the light out of a baby's eyes, without even flinching, like your daddy did?"

He chuckled. Talking something out of his pocket. it was a pink sock. He held it out to Sam and closed his fist on it.

"That one wasn't even strictly necessary. She could have been saved you know. It looked worse than it was. I didn't pull out the big guns." He sounded almost sad. Sam wanted to scream.

"He didn't even try! didn't bother! That's how jaded he is, That's how little he cares about human life really, despite all his talk about saving people. He's just a death seeker. Has been from the moment your mother died! As for _Dean_" He spat the name. "He's just as driven as your father. He'll never give up the hunt. It's what he lives for! It's the only thing he knows! "

The blood was at chest level now. Sam felt his heart thumping so hard he thought It would bust his ribs. The blood rose to his neck, over his chin. He screamed and it filled his mouth, choking him.

The demon smiled. "This is your future Sam. You'll drown in it."

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He woke with a sharp cry.

It was morning. The room was empty. He could hear Bobby talking downstairs. The smell of bacon. He flopped back onto the bed. _Holy crap! that was one hell of a dream. _He was glad no one was there to hear him scream like a girl. Making his way downstairs he could hear Bobby and Dean arguing.

"Dammit boy if you want to cremate that bacon why don't you just hold it right over the burner!"

"I'm not burning it. It's crispy!"

"Yeah so was the corpse I lit up last week!"

"Aw Bobby! Why'd you have to mention that while I'm cooking!"

They were standing at the counter making eggs and bacon. Both wearing aprons. Sam stifled a snort. He groaned as he entered the kitchen.

"Ugh! Dean's cooking. I should have stayed in bed." He sat down at the table, close enough to the stove to get a slap upside the head with the egg flipper.

"Ow!"

"No bacon for you smart ass!"

"Where's Dad?" He asked. Bobby looked up from the eggs he was beating.

"Library, he left to go researching at about six this morning."

" Researching what?"

"How should I know kid? I wasn't exactly bounding out of bed to see him off, he left a note."

Sam folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them.

"You sleep all right Sammy?" asked Dean

"Yeah." He grumbled. Finding his brother's concern irritating. "Did either of you see Dad before he left?"

"No." Replied Dean, turning to look at him. "Why?"

"You think he's ok?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

Sam just looked up at his brother. _Really Dean?_

Dean cocked an eyebrow in Bobby's direction.

_Ohhhh! Of course, we don't know what he told Bobby._

They continued cooking in awkward silence for a few minutes. Bobby looking at them every now and then as if he expected them to talk. Sam wanted Dean to say _something_ about yesterday. At least acknowledge that it happened. It felt unreal to him like a nightmare. He shuddered at the memory of the dream he'd had last night. The blood rising and...

"DEAN! For the love of god stop cooking that damn bacon!"

"It's nearly done old man!"

"It was done ten minutes ago!"

Sam got up and wandered over to the fridge. His Dad's note was still on it.

_**"Gone to library. Dean why are you sleeping on the couch?"**_

"Dean?" He asked. "Why did you sleep on the couch?"

"You wet the bed" said Dean without missing a beat.

"Shut up!"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Shut up both of you and lets eat, Sam get out some plates would ya?"

Sam set the table and they sat down and ate. As Bobby poured them coffee he broached the subject of yesterday's hunt. he had kind of expected it to come up before now but the freaking Winchesters would never make it that easy for him.

He eyed them nervously. Dean had had a breakdown in his sleep last night. If he remembered any of it you certainly wouldn't know. He was his usual self. Joking around, avoiding anything resembling a serious conversation and Sam, the one who usually couldn't get enough deep and meaningful talk, wasn't talking at all. They both looked like they hadn't slept in a week.

_Christ John what happened?_

"So your Dad told me about yesterday." He said carefully "I'm sorry things went South like that boys."

"It happens." Dean muttered and stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"It does", Bobby continued. "That don't mean it aint a big deal."

Sam ate silently. He wanted to say something but he was afraid he'd put his foot in it... Again. He wished he knew how much Dad had told Bobby. He wanted to throw his fork at Dean. Didn't he understand what had happened? Didn't he _see_ how fucked up their situation was? What kind of people just shrugged off something like that?

Bobby sighed. He looked over at Dean "look I know you don't wanna talk about it, and I sure as hell know your Dad won't want to either. I also know he didn't tell me the whole story last night. "

The boys exchanged looks. Dean shook his head slightly.

"Bad stuff happens on hunts, the type of shit that human's weren't built for. If you keep stuff, real bad stuff inside for too long it finds a way out one way or another. So before it blows up in your faces I'm telling you . He looked at Sam now. _Both_ of you. Talk to me, any time. Ok?"

Sam nodded.

"OK?" bobby asked Dean pointedly.

"Ok Bobby we got it." Dean mumbled. "Pep talk over?"

Bobby smiled. He needed to lighten the mood. He didn't want them to feel pressured. "Hey Sam?" He asked the kid, who was playing with his food aimlessly. Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Dean?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He had got to the part Where seven year old Dean threatened to shoot his ass when They heard the Impala pulling up in the driveway. A moment later John rushed in. Speaking hurriedly.

"Bobby, I have a lead! Boys when you're done here, pack up, we're heading for Arizona."

**Dun dun dun!**

**Ok honest opinions folks. i've never written much before and to tell you the truth I don't know where this is coming from. So I ask you ...Is this shit?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The journey from South Dakota to Arizona is Over 1,300 Miles. Using back roads That's approximately a twenty four hour drive over four state lines.

_Thats how long John and the boys are going to be stuck in the car together. _Bobby thought as he watched them pull out of the driveway. He had tried to encourage John to stay, another couple of days at least. He was pretty sure the guy was running off half cocked anyway. He had found a lead in Sedona of all places.

Bobby and John argued under their breath as John packed weapons into the trunk. The boys were already waiting in the car.

"Sedona John? Really? Crackpot central? I don't think there's ever been a real psychic in Sedona. You're barking up the wrong tree."

"Its not a psychic Bobby its a Shaman and He knows what we're dealing with. More importantly He knows where to find it."

"At least leave the kids here." Bobby reasoned. "You said yourself the thing was too dangerous for them to hunt."

" They're coming with me. I can keep my family safe bobby, been doing it for years." Replied John as he packed the trunk.

Bobby bit his tongue. _You mean Dean's been doing it for years while you race around the country driving yourself insane._

" Why John? Can't you see how worn out they are? Why can't they stay here and get some rest?"

"I need Dean."

"For what? Come on John. Give me a day and I'll have ten of the country's best hunters at your service. What do you need the kid for?

"He's not a kid and he's better at this than half the hunters out there. End of discussion Bobby." He said, slamming the trunk.

"John, at least let me know... Well, let me know what you find out." he said lamely. There would be no changing the man's mind. John nodded and got in the car. Eyes already on the border.

Bobby knocked on the passenger window. Dean, who had been resting his head against the glass looked up and wound down the window. He looked spent, hardy ready for a long car ride much less a hunt.

"You call me when you arrive Ya hear? I want to know where you're staying."

"Can Do Bobby." He replied with a smile. Thanks for everyth..."

John pulled the car away. As they rounded the corner, Bobby caught a glimpse of Sam's pale face looking out the back window. He waved at the kid. Sam had looked so crestfallen at leaving. Bobby thought he might start crying. Sam would usually argue and whine, drive John to distraction. But he hadn't said anything, just gone to get his bag without a word.

Yup. That car was a powder keg and no mistake. and it was heading for the Arizona heat in mid August.

_Oh boy._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean snored in the passenger seat. Sam rested his head against the window. Absent mindedly touching the green army man he'd once jammed into the ashtray when he was six. Dad had driven non stop , they'd be sure to make record time.

He watched the Colorado landscape zoom by in the afternoon sun. He wished , for a moment, that he was on the outside of the car. Living in one of these little wooden farm houses at the base of the Rockies. He turned his head into the leather seat, and shut his eyes.

"Sam?"

His Fathers voice.

"Mmm?" He mumbled

"You ok back there buddy? You've been kinda quiet."

"Uh huh. 'M tired that's all."

"Ok, we'll stop for a bite to eat in a few hours, why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"Ok Dad."

John smiled at the sight of his sons shaggy, unbrushed head in the rear view mirror. He thought back to his own childhood, long road trips for summer vacation with his parents. Invariably he'd fall asleep half way through the journey and get upset that he'd missed half the trip.

He slapped himself mentally. How cold he compare this to a road trip? The destination wasn't exactly Disneyland. Sam wasn't exactly on vacation. His kids were soldiers in the heat of battle and they were still learning the ropes. Faster than he had, but probably not quiet fast enough to survive the evil he was chasing. If it came to that.

He thought of Vietnam. After all these years. He thought it was behind him. Mary had helped him through it. The nightmares, flashbacks and guilt. After her death he'd been too driven to dwell on it, but it was sneaking up on him again. When he didn't expect it. _This is not the time for it_! He told himself. _You can't go back there now!_

_He's surrounded by the bodies of the villagers, men women and children, some naked, raped, mutilated ... He'd like to be able to keep up with his commanding officer as he stalks through the burnt out town but he's shaking so much he can hardly walk._

_There's a small figure lying under a tree up ahead. He can't bring himself to walk past it. He cant..._

_A stinging slap to his face, he tastes blood._

_"Snap out of it private! This is your life at stake! Both out lives!"_

_He Immediately raises his gun and covers the Sarge as he enters the empty house._

_It isn't empty. Sarge walks in and sets off a mine buried in the dirt floor._

_John flies backward, Lands on the ground and blacks out._

John gasped , reality rushing back. He was back on the road again, with his boys, He breathed . Comforted by their presence. He glanced at Sam sleeping in the back. Dean was moving , dreaming.

"No! No! Please!"

John flinched at the pain in his son's voice. Dean started pleading, begging in his sleep.

"No please don't... Don't be..."

John glanced over, worried, he should wake him.

"Don't be alive still... Please... No."

_Oh God no._

John slowed the car, pulled over onto the hard shoulder. He shook Dean gently.

"Hey... Hey! Dean, wake up!"

Green eyes slowly opened and looked up at him, terrified, for an instant. Then recognition dawned and he looked around.

"Dad? Are we there?"

"No son , not yet, you were having a nightmare."

"Oh."

"You ok?"

"Yeah." Dean sat up scrubbing his eyes. "I'm fine. Where are we?"

"Almost out of Colorado."

They drove in silence. John wanted to ask Dean, no , no he didn't, that was the problem. He genuinely didn't want to think about it. He knew they should talk about what happened yesterday. But if he did that, he'd have to think about what he had done, and other things he thought were dead and buried.

_No. _He thought. _Dean will hold it together, he always does._ Sam? Maybe not. Sam would occasionally break down under pressure, but he was a kid, he'd get over it. He, on the other had, had to keep his head, and do that he needed Dean to keep his. _Don't you lose it kid. This is too important._

After a while John spoke, quietly so as not to wake Sam.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"This Shaman, I think He's the real deal. He can help us find the thing that killed

Mary."

"Dean gulped. "Really?"

"Yeah, do you know what this means? If we get this son of a bitch this could all be over."

Dean nodded his understanding.

"So we're going to need our wits about us understand? No mistakes, no slipping up."

"Yes Sir."

"Good boy."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sam dreamed of a beige and white room, on a big bed. He was lying under white cotton sheets. A woman, beautiful, naked. Whoa!... _

_She had big expressive eyes and dark hair. He thinks he might love her. Or at least like her a lot. She climbs on top of him and kisses him. Her lips taste like vanilla. His body arches up to meet her..._

_Then she's standing in front of him, crying, She presses a gun into his hands. She starts begging and suddenly he realises he's crying too... He hears a cruel unnatural voice in his head _

_"Think You're cut out for mercy killing boy?"_

_She's begging him..._

_"__Help me, Sam. I want you to do it. I want it to be you."..._

_"I Cant!"..._

_... She sits on the bed as he approaches, with the gun in his hand. Half blinded with tears. He's sobbing so hard he can hardly stand up straight. She looks up, She's saying something to him, trying to calm him, She takes his hand and forces the barrel to her chest, she holds it there..._

_"Do It!"_

_He shakes his head, unable to speak._

_"Sam... Please."_

_He pulls the trigger..._

Sam opened his eyes. His head was pressed into the impala's side window. Touching his face, he released his cheeks were wet. He quickly wiped his eyes, hoping Dean and Dad wouldn't notice he'd been crying. In his sleep? _Wow! I really am a pussy. What the hell's wrong with me!_

"Sammy?" Dean's voice, concerned, reaching awkwardly over the passenger seat. "What's wrong?" He asked urgently.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, are you sick?" He tried to feel Sam's forehead.

Sam slapped away his brother's hand.

"DON'T touch me! I'm fine! Why don't you mind your own business for once!" He yelled. Then regretted it when his brother's face fell.

"Jesus Sam! Time of the month?" He huffed.

"Shut up! You... Just leave me alone!"

The car was pulled over abruptly and John stepped out of the driver's side.

_Uh oh_ Sam thought. _This hasn't happened in long time._

He scurried across the passenger seat when John opened the back door. Getting as far from his father's outstretched arm as he could. Instead of the expected slap, he just felt his Dad's palm against his forehead.

"He does feel warm." John said.

"I don't have a fever." Sam replied flatly

John didn't say anything. Just got back in the driver's seat and took off again.

"We'll stop for the night soon. Get him some Tylenol or something."

_Talking about me like I'm not even here._ Sam sulked in the back._ I'm not fucking sick and they know it... _

_Then what's wrong with me? Why the weird dreams and mood swings? That dream felt so real...Maybe I'm going insane... Shouldn't have yelled at Dean. Not his fault._

It was dark outside, they were on some road that didn't even have cat's eyes. In the moonlight he could see that the mountains were a strange shape, flat all along the top. Weird.

"Where are we Dean?"

"New Mexico"

He watched the moon for a while. The memory of the woman's face faded to a blur but the feeling stayed. Somewhere in the desert scrub. A Coyote howled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Dean loved the Southwest. There was something about the ancient red earth that made him feel safe, even if there were countless native American spirits to worry about. Most of them wouldn't bother you unless you bothered them.

He heard a Coyote when they exited the car into the warm night air. They were staying at the Roadrunner Motel, it seemed appropriate.

Dean held the door open while John carried a sleeping Sam into the room, the kid was still pretty small for his age, Dean knew it worried Dad that he was so weedy, but hey, that's what big brothers were around for.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dad examined the map obsessively on the coffee table. Putting a red dot on Midway, South Dakota. Writing notes about the weather in the margin. Dean knew better than to disturb him while he was concentrating. Even if he was dying to know more about the Shaman.

Sam was passed out on the bed, his arms and legs all over the place. Good, maybe the little bastard will be in a better mood tomorrow. Poor kid.

Dean double checked the salt lines and flicked through the TV with the sound off. Suddenly John leaped up from the couch and got a book out of his pack. He began to make notes in the book, muttering under his breath. He'd probably be at it all night. Dean zoned out in front of a rerun of M*A*S*H. He began to think about What Dad had said in the car. Could he be right? If they pulled this hunt off, could it be the end of their mission? Could they have regular lives?

Dean wasn't so sure. Sam was still young enough to pull that off, but he and Dad? They were lifers, and they knew it. He tried to imagine Dad going back to life in the suburbs. Mortgages , work and drinks with the guys. Nah...He couldn't even imagine it.

He glanced at Sam. The kid's eyes were darting around under his eyelids. Dean frowned, concerned. Sam didn't seem to be bouncing back from yesterdays hunt at all. He was moody and clearly having nightmares. Then again, so was he. But he didn't remember his nightmares so it didn't count. Dean could compartmentalise. He'd heard that on Oprah... Not that he watched Oprah.

He had a personal motto which he applied only to himself. "If it stinks ...Bury it." He did, he buried it all so deep even he couldn't find it again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sam sees through a yellow haze, a woman in a lacy nightie is staring at him in absolute terror. She cant even scream she's so afraid. She backs slowly towards the wall. Trying to get away, but there's an invisible force holding her there. Her arms are spread wide like a crucifix. A slash appears from elbow to wrist, she watches in agony as she bleeds out. Then he sees the blood stain on the flannel night-dress. It runs from her chest to her groin. There is another sound, a high pitched wail. A baby in the crib against the other wall. The gaze turns to the howling child. _Now_ the woman screams._

_Yellow eyes, glazed and cat like, staring with total hatred. Then his vision widened and he saw , to his horror, that those eyes were staring out of his father's face. It's dark, a wooden shack, Dean lay on the ground, blood pooling round him. Sam' was sure he was dead._

_"__ You kill me, you kill Daddy."_

_The demon possessing his father said with a smirk._

_"Sam looked down, he was holding an antique gun, pointing it directly at John._

_"I know". He shot John in the leg, and he fell to the floor..._

_...Johns face, his own again, but desperate, he's begging._

_Sammy! It's still alive. It's inside me. I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it, now!_

"NO!"

He shot upright on the bed. His whole body trembling.

John looked up, startled. Dean immediately jumped off the other bed and went to him. Trying to turn the younger boy to face him.

"Hey buddy, it's ok, it was just a nightmare", he said softly.

Sam reacted like he'd been touched with a red hot poker, And ran to the bathroom, slamming the door. Dean and John looked at each other, they could hear Sam retching. John pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. Dean thought he looked old, and tired.

"Dean. I... would you just... handle it?"

"Sure, 'course dad." Dean said , going to check on his brother.

"Dammit Sam! " Muttered John." I don't have time for this! " He rested his head in his hands. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam was dry heaving into the sink. The tremors had diminished a little but he was still shivering, covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up at the mirror, Dean stood behind him holding out a cup of water.

Sam took it from him gratefully and washed out his mouth. Spitting into the sink before running the water.

"Thanks" he croaked.

"What did you dream about?" Dean asked. _Might as well get to the point._

"What? Not going to try and explain it away with a fever?" Sam said bitterly.

"Sam, just tell me."

"What do you think I dreamed about?" He said , so quietly that Dean nearly didn't hear him.

Sam watched his brother go pale under the florescent light.

" Am I supposed to just shrug it off Dean?" he asked angrily " Pretend it didn't happen? Didn't matter? What am I supposed to _do?_"

Dean steadied himself. Looking down into his little brother's eyes. He realised that Sam really was asking him what to do, and he had no answer. He wasn't sure what Sam should do. He was pretty sure that what Sam _wanted_ to do was fall apart like a piñata but that wasn't really an option.

"Get back to bed Sammy." Dean said, finally. "Everything will ..."

"If you say everything will be better when I wake up, I'll kick you in the balls!"

Dean's mouth snapped shut.

"Leave me alone, please."

Dean reluctantly left the bathroom. The shower began running almost immediately. He found the motel room empty. A note on the coffee table

_**Be back soon.**_

Dean sighed, tears stinging his eyes. Just this _once_ he would have liked to have some advice, someone else. He had no clue how to help his brother. He was no good at this psychological, touchy feel crap. _Christ_ he was tired.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam shuddered under the hot water. He had to get this awful foreboding feeling to go away. The more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

_"This your future"_

"No he whispered, It isn't , It can't be"

But he knew, in some intuitive part of himself, that the dreams weren't just dreams. He knew that what Dad was taking on would destroy him, and that Dean would be dragged down too. That he would have to end it.

He couldn't stand it. He had to do something , but all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide away. From all of it, from hunting , from Dad, even from Dean, who he loved more than anyone.

Sam remembered a story Bobby told him once, an English Fairytale about a little man called Yallery Brown who lived curled up under a rock for hundred years, cocooned in his own hair. Yeah, that sounded pretty good right now. He could get behind that.

He curled into a ball under the shower spray and rested his forehead on his knees. He was so tired. He started to cry.

" Please, please, please, make it go away!" He chanted. Willing the world to stop existing.

xxxxxxxxxxx

In the darkness of the room, Dean tried to block out the sound of his brother's sobs with a pillow over his ears. At last the the shower stopped. Dean shut his eyes and feigned sleep as Sam dressed and got under the covers beside him.

Sam lay there silently, Dean knew he was awake. He should say something, acknowledge his brothers suffering somehow, but the words dried up on his tongue. What could he say? Later, when Sam was finally asleep, Dean lay awake. In the past he'd always been able to problem solve, he could fix nearly anything wrong in Sam's world. He couldn't do anything to make it better this time. This time he was helpless. There was a sound at the door. John fumbled with the keys and staggered in. There was a smashing sound as he fell over the night stand and cursed loudly. Dean could smell the alcohol from across the room.

_Oh great. _

He turned on the light and went to help John up. He was on his hand's and knees. His eyes at half mast. God he was really wasted.

"Dad"

John looked up at him. His vision swimming. Dean reached down and tried to pulled him up, shouldering his weight.

"D... Don't!" John slurred, reeling away from him, falling onto the bed. Where he lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. Dean sighed and attempted to take his boots off, John lashed out with his foot, catching Dean on the hip and sending him falling backwards onto the carpet.

The wind knocked out of him. Dean sat there for a moment blinking back tears of pain and frustration before getting up and trying again. This time John just lay there, passed out. Dean dropped the boots on the floor and turned his insensible father onto his side lest he pull a Jimmi Hendrix. Then he crawled back under the covers. Suddenly wanting to put an arm around his sleeping brother like he did when they were kids, during a storm.

John drank, that was no secret, all hunters drank. Dean could manage regular, maudlin drunk John, but this level of drunk? He hadn't seen it in a while. Sam probably couldn't remember their father on a real bender, but Dean remembered the first couple of years following Mary's death. Knew this was how they started, and they usually didn't end so well either.

Sam falling apart he could handle. He loved the kid and it was his job to take care of him. John could lose his cool and that would be manageable if he had Sam firing on both cylinders. But both of then going to pieces at once? No! No he couldn't deal with that.

John was heading to most dangerous and important hunt of his life and he couldn't go into it alone, certainly no half wasted. Dean wouldn't let it happen. At the same time he was terrified to leave Sam by himself in his current state.

_What the hell am I going to do?_ He wondered, rubbing his bruised hip.

Beside him , Sam shifted and whimpered in his sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the review ****IritIlan**** I was starting to think no one was reading. **

**N.B. I apologise in advance to the citizens of Gallup New Mexico. I'm sure its a fine town but for the purposes of my story its a crap hole.**

**Chapter 7**

_"You see Amarillo,_

_Gallup, New Mexico,_

_Flagstaff, Arizona._

_Don't forget Winona,_

_Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino."_

Dean's tuneless voice serenaded them. As they entered the city limits. Street after street of pawn shops and liquor stores, pretty depressing. Sam smiled despite everything. he could hardly keep his eyes open and Dad was so hung over that he hadn't spoken all morning but Dean was still enthused about being on old Route 66. They pulled over outside a cheap motel in Gallup called _The Totem Inn_, at around midday.

The girl at reception grunted at them by way of greeting, then left them with an elderly man who wasn't as courteous and practically threw the room keys at them, with a glare.

"C'mon boys, lets go grab something to eat," Muttered John.

As they sat at the diner table waiting for their tacos, John examined the two boys. Dean looked on edge, stressed. He kept cracking jokes, but not in his usual easy going way. This was nerves, and Sam? Well the kid looked beat to hell, pale as a sheet , big dark rings under his eyes, he hadn't been eating either. If only John's head would stop pounding maybe he'd be able to remember last night. Had he _done_ something? He had a horrible feeling he had.

The waitress deposited their food and curtly informed them that they were out of hot sauce.

John came to a realisation. He should have left the boy with Bobby. He needed Dean on the hunt but that would require Sam being left alone for who knew how long. He looked briefly at the kid , who pushed his food around the plate listlessly.

"Sammy, eat your dinner kiddo". He admonished gently. "Dean we'll start planning for the hunt this evening."

Dean nodded. "So Dad you think this town might warrant a hunt of it's own?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" John asked sharply.

"The entire town has PMS... Even the men." Dean explained. "That's got to mean something?"

John sighed, Smiling slightly, more at Sam's blushing than Dean's joke.

Dean unloaded the last of the bags of weapons from the trunk and lugged it up the outside staircase to the motel room. They'd need to clean everything and make sure all the guns were working and all the knives were sharp. He blinked in the afternoon sun, it was nice to be outside in the elements instead of belting along in the Impala for once. John had gone into to town to get of some Maps and herbs from a root woman he was aquatinted with from a previous hunt. In all seriousness, Gallup, whilst being a little fucked by economics, wasn't that bad of a place, Dean didn't mind staying there a little longer. They could all use the rest.

Dean could hear Sam talking to someone. He opened the door slowly, gripping the handle of his trusty butterfly knife. It turned out that Sam was on the phone, sitting on one of the beds. He smiled slightly when Dean walked in.

"Ok Bobby, I'll tell him, ok. Yeah, it was nice to hear your voice too. You wanna talk to Dean?" He asked, passing the phone to his brother. Dean wasn't sure why, but he felt a little apprehensive about talking to Bobby. The old man had a habit of mind reading. He always seemed to know when he was upset and called him on it. But, Dean reminded himself, he wasn't upset, he was_ fine._

"Hi Bobby!" He said, with forced joviality.

_"Dean?" _

"Yeah?"

_"How are you three doing?"_

"Good, thanks, we're stopping in Gallup for a day of two to rest and prepare for the hunt."

_"I thought you couldn't prepare for the hunt until you'd seen the Psychic?" _

"Shaman... Dad said we'd start now. I dunno Bobby, I don't know much about the hunt. He won't tell me."

Bobby sighed loudly. Dean could almost hear him rolling his eyes. _"That makes two of us kid. Listen, I asked Sam already but just make sure he calls me later? I need to talk to him about something ok?"_

"Ok Bobby."

_"And Dean?"_

"Yeah?"

_" Are you doing ok?"_

"Yeah of course I am Bobby. I'm always ok." Dean laughed. Somewhat nervous.

_"Ok kid. you call if you need me all right? I know that your dad and brother can be a handful sometimes."_

"Ok Bobby" Dean laughed and hung up. _Disaster averted. _

He turned to his brother who was still sitting on the bed, looking dejected. "So Bitch, you up for cleaning some guns?" He asked, gesturing towards the sack of weapons. Sam Groaned, it was his least favourite chore.

"C'mon it's not so bad, we'll do it together." He said, setting up at the small table between the beds and sitting on the one opposite Sam.

"You ever wonder what other kids do with their weekends?" Sam asked.

"Nothing this important Sammy." Dean rejoined unsympathetically.

"Dean? I called Bobby."

Dean looked up "Yeah?"

" I...I just wanted to hear his voice."

"That's cool Sammy, you know he doesn't mind." Dean said, not quite sure where this was going.

"I wish..." Sammy began. Then he went quiet.

"What Do you wish?"

" I wish...I could have stayed with Bobby, I mean, I won't be able to help you guys with this one, Dad's already said its too dangerous."

Dean sighed. "Sammy, I know the feeling all right? But this hunt? Its the biggie, this thing? It might be the thing that...Killed Mom"

Sam's eyes widened. "_The_ Demon?"

"Yeah, dad's been on it's trail since...Since Midway". He gulped. "If we can find a way to kill it.. Then all this will be over with. We can have our lives back,"

"You really think that will happen Dean?" Sam said, with surprising bitterness. "And what if _it_ finds a way to kill_ you?_ Then what ?" He said, his lip suddenly wobbling.

Dean panicked, he hated it when Sammy turned on the waterworks."Hey Sammy! Listen up! I know you worry ok? I _know_, but we know what we're doing! We're trained and we're going in prepared. We'll be fine, we're going to do this thing."

Sam wouldn't look at him, instead he focused on the cleaning the barrel of his Dad's 45.

"Sammy?" Dean said , trying to catch his eye. "Don't worry so much kiddo." We'll be fine, I promise."

" Just like they were?" Sam said in a small voice,

"Like wh...?" Dean suddenly saw a flash in his mind's eye of the woman lying on the red carpet. Of little pink socks, twitching and flexing in agony.

"Oh! Oh Sammy, that's different. Th..They were civilians. The thing was trying to piss Dad off. Demons are like that."

Sam continued to clean the gun in silence. Dean did the same, he couldn't talk about... That. He wouldn't be able to hold it together. The phone rang, it was John. Dean picked it up, thankful for the distraction.

"Ok Dad...Ok...Bobby called earlier...He wants you to call him back...Ok...Yes sir."

He hung up.

"He won't be back till tonight. You wanna finish these later and go out to catch some sun?" He asked Sam, the kid looked like he'd been living under a rock.

"No thanks Dean, lets just do them." Sam said, without looking up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John sat at the bar for a couple more hours before he dialled Bobby's number on his cellphone, stupid thing wasn't good for much beside keeping track of the kids. But right now he was glad of it, he didn't want to go back to the motel just yet, he had to think. Bobby picked up on the third ring.

_"Singer Salvage."_

'Bobby?"

_"John."_

"Dean said you called earlier?"

Bobby laughed mirthlessly . _"Actually John, your youngest son called me."_

"Sammy?"

_"Yeah that youngest son. Listen, the kid was trying to be nonchalant, talk about the weather, but he's falling to pieces John. It was obvious even over the phone."_

"What are you talking about?" John snapped.

_"He kept asking what I knew about the hunt you're on, he's terrified you'll go off half cocked and won't come back."_

John groaned. "For God's sake Bobby! Of course he worries, but he should know by now that I know what I'm doing!

_"Should he John? I'm not so sure you do! I know something happened in Midway that you ain't telling me y'kno..."_

John hung up on his friend and threw back the rest of his whiskey. Then, put ten down on the countertop. Gathered the maps under his arm and left the bar.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he got back to _The Totem_ it was getting Dark. He was pleased to find the boys hard at work finishing off the weapons. They were nearly done. They both looked up when he came in. They looked nervous. _Come on! _ He thought. _I'm a little drunk, not on fire!_

"Hey Boys!" He said, slurring ever so slightly. "I bought dinner." He drooped a couple of Burger king bags on the bed beside Dean. Who perked up and smiled at him. Sam continued his cleaning. John spread an ordinance survey map of the Northern Arizona on the coffee table, and started his evening routine. This time he sat down first and beckoned the boys.

"Dean let me show you the area we'll be dealing with." Dean looked up from his burger and immediatly rushed over to take a look, kneeling in front of the map. John looked up and patted the sofa beside him. "Sammy, C'mon let me show you." Sam was curious, Dad usually didn't involve him in research that much. He went and Sat beside his father and was surprised when John put and arm around him and pulled him in closer, so that he was leaning against him.

"Now this is Sedona, and north of that is Flagstaff." He began, "The trees in northern Arizona are mostly pine and it's quite heavily forested..." He told them all about the terrain, and the small towns in the area that could be hiding their enemy.

Sam tried to take it all in but the exhaustion of the past couple of days were taking their toll on him. He rested his head against John's chest and the sound of his Dad's heartbeat lulled him to sleep. As he drifted of he repeated a mantra in his head.

_Don't go, please don't go! _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dean. In his arms, bleeding from multiple lacerations. His blood pooling on the hardwood floor. The light going out of his eyes._

..."So Jerome Might be be option, I'm thinking the haunting alone might make it suitable spot"...

Sam drifted back to himself. He didn't scream or cry or jump up. He just lay with his head on his father's chest and knew, beyond a doubt, that his future held_ that._ That his brother would die and he would have to watch. He closed his eyes again. _He had to get out of the room so they wouldn't see._

"So? Began Dean, There's Jerome, and The Oak Ridge Canyon. Countless hunters shacks in the woods around Flagstaff..." He paused, grinning at his sleeping brother. John glanced down and smiled, Manoeuvring Sam so that he was leaning against the arm rest. Leaving John's arm free.

Sam opened his eyes, John and Dean were deep in conversation. He got up quietly. They didn't even notice. He crept across the room and opened the door. It didn't creak, he slipped out, leaving it slightly open so it wouldn't slam. He tiptoed down the stairway, and ran across the parking lot. Where he stood in the darkness by the cactus plants and burst into tears. He crouched down in the cactus bed and wept until he was pretty sure he had no liquid left in him. He didn't want to go back in there, to his father and brother. Their presence made the lump in his throat grow. Reminded him of what he was going to lose. He looked over his shoulder, there was a bar a couple of doors down. It sounded busy. He had an idea.

The bar was humming, but the back entrance was unguarded, it hadn't been hard to sneak a bottle of vodka. It had been a little harder to drink the cheap, fiery shit outside in the bushes, but he'd managed a third of the bottle. He understood why Dad drank, it was awsome! It made him feel numb. He took another swig and lay on his back, looking at the stars. They moved and spun around. Time slowed down, he didn't know how long he was lying there.

A silhouette blocked his view and he was gripped by the shirt and pulled roughly to his feet.

"What the HELL are you doing out here!" Dean slapped his face . Then, just as quickly, pulled him into a hug. Sam was too drunk to feel either.

"You fucking scared the shit out of me! What are you doing out here? Is that vodka?"

Sam buried his face in Dean's shirt and said nothing.

"SAM!" Dean yelled, shaking him hard. You're in _such_ trouble! Dad's gonna to tan your hide! What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam couldn't answer that. He hadn't thought much at all.

Dean grabbed him by the arm and pulled him bodily across the parking lot and up the stairs. He was hurled unceremoniously onto the bed and Dean immediately dialled the phone. "Dad!" he called. "He's here!"

It might have been an hour later or it might have been ten minutes but either way, Sam's heart fell at the sight of his father's furious face in the doorway.

_Uh oh!_ He thought. _I really didn't think this through._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Dean sat in a chair in the corner, his collar up, watching his little brother. Sam lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He wouldn't respond when Dean started questioning him, so he gave up and waited for Dad. He wasn't looking forward to John's reaction to this, especially after he smelled the alcohol on Sam's breath.

He'd really scared the crap ot of them. John had nearly had an aneurism when he saw the open door. He rushed outside came back in panicked when Sam hadn't been there. Dean didn't often see his father terrified and it made him feel like the floor had dropped away from under his feet.

Of course the first thing they both thought of, was that something had taken him. It boggled the mind that something could have got into the room and taken him from under their noses, but the idea of him wilfully running off honestly hadn't occurred to either of them. They'd split up, John had taken the car and instructed Dean to search around the motel. It had been an hour of panicked searching with his heart in his mouth before he'd found Sammy, drunk in the bushes not 500 feet away. Dean forced himself to breathe. _Its ok now he's here , he's safe._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John practically pulled the door of the hinges when he arrived back. Rushing over to the bed, pulling Sam to his feet. "Are you ok?" He looked Sam up and down frantically, trying to ascertain what was wrong with him. "Are you drunk? Sam?"

Sam looked at his feet groggily, swaying.

"SAM YOU ANSWER ME!" Dad yelled, making Dean jump in his chair. He shook Sam slightly.

Sam shrugged. 'Yeah." He slurred.

"Yeah?" John repeated, "yeah, you thought it would be a good idea to take off into the fucking night without telling anyone and go to a bar?" His face red with fury. "LOOK AT ME when I'm talking to you!"

Sam either couldn't or wouldn't look at His father. He continued to stare at his feet. John pulled a chair over to the centre of the room and pushed Sam down into it.

"You damn well tell me what's going on here, and that an order, young man!"

Sam looked up at John, an odd look on his face. "I wanted a drink."

Dean's heart sprang into his mouth, _no one_ spoke to John in that tone of voice. S_hut up Sammy! You're on thin ice you idiot!_

John shut his eyes and took at deep breath. "You think that's ok Sam? You think you can wander off and go on a bender?"

"You do it." Sam replied, without missing a beat. John's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Sam you watch your tone! This isn't about what I do, its about _you_ scaring the hell out of Me and your_ brother!_" he pointed at Dean, where he huddled in the chair.

"Which bar was it Dean? I'm going to report them for serving him!"

Dean's mouth was dry. He didn't want to get Sam in even worse trouble but he was... Well, in about as much trouble as he could get at this stage.

"He... He was in the bushes behind the bar next door. I dunno where he got the booze."

John rounded on Sam again.

"Well?" He asked, throwing his arms wide.

"Stole it from the storeroom." Sam whispered.

"You _stole_ it?"

"SO?" Sam yelled, so suddenly and angrily that John took a step back. "YOU steal all the time! You have stolen credit cards! You go out and get drunk! Why is it this terrible thing all of a sudden?"

John paled. Unsure of how to handle this drunken outburst. He wasn't unsure for long.

"You damn well know the difference between _me_, a grown man, unwinding after a hunt, and _you_ ,a fourteen year old boy, hanging out behind seedy bars getting drunk! Don't you dare make this about me!" He yelled, grabbing the arms of the chair. Sam flinched as John got in his face.

"I need to unwind too!" Sam whimpered, his voice cracking in the face of his fathers rage. "I had to get away from_ you_!"

John rolled his eyes. "Really Sam? Why is that?"

"Y...you're a hypocrite!" Stammered Sam. Visibly shaking with fear yet still pushing John.

"Sammy!" Dean warned. Hoping he wouldn't be forced to step between the two of them.

"Let him finish Dean." John said quietly. Sam continued, the alcohol making him brave.

"You say that hunting's about saving people but it's not... It's about you, getting your revenge! You don't respect people! You drink and you gamble and you... Kill! and you think it makes you a good person! You... You don't even care if you live or die and you're happy to drag Dean down with you!"

To Deans horror John took off his belt and doubled it over. Staring at his insubordinate son with rage so intense that he was shaking with it.

"No Dad!" Dean was on his feet.

"Stay out of this Dean!" John yelled at him.

Dean didn't know what to do. Dad's orders and Sam's safety had never been at odds before. He stood there, unable to move. Memories of that belt flooded into his mind, memories of a different John, just after Mary died and he thought he was going insane, seeing things. When the only things stopping him from drinking himself to death were the six month old baby and a traumatised child he had for company.

John literally saw red. Hearing those words from his son was too much. Especially after the scare he'd given them. He reached out and grabbed the boys wrist, ready to beat the daylights out of him, when he saw Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Shaking. His eyes wide, his jaw set. Dean walked over and grabbed his father's wrist. John stared at him for a few seconds, Dean looked back unflinching, he didn't say a word but his meaning was clear enough. _Don't even think about it_. John pulled his arm away and turned back to Sam.

"You know what my father would have done to me in this situation Sam?" He hissed, brandishing the belt in his son's terrified face. I swear to God I'm an inch away from following his example, you going to push me boy?"

Sam shook his head rapidly. John looked at the terrified kid for a moment and threw the belt on the floor.

"Next time you pull a stunt like this I Will. Not. Hesitate. Got it?" He asked, gripping Sam's chin , making him look him in the eye.

"Yes sir." Whispered Sam.

" This hunt means everything Sam!" We can't go do this thing if we're worrying about you running off and doing something stupid! You need to start growing up! We're at war here. You're a soldier whether you know it or not."

John let go of him and turned to Dean.

" I'm going out. Do not let him out of your sight, understand?"

Dean nodded, unable to speak.

John stormed out, slamming the door as he went. The brother's stood silently, for a full minute, their breath coming in gasps, then Sam broke down in sobs and Dean practically flew over and wrapped his arms around him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John sat in the car, trying to calm himself down, he had come dangerously close to violence in there and he knew it. _God he needed a drink. No, that wouldn't do, that was part of the problem here, he had to focus, to make his boys focus._

_Son of a bitch!_ What? Was the kid looking for attention? The usual teenage rebellion at least came with a bit of surliness as a warning, Not out of the fucking blue!

No, he wasn't looking for attention, he was crying for help, and John couldn't give it to him. The only way that he could rid his children of nightmares and horrific events was to kill this Demon. The sooner he got to Sedona the better, he kicked himself again for not leaving the boys with Bobby. He'd leave them here and call for Dean when he knew the Demon's location. That would rid him of distractions and give Sam and Dean a chance to recover from that _fucking_ day in Midway. That's what had started all this. If only he'd realised, or been fast enough to save the woman and...

"God damnit!" He punched the dashboard.

He considered ,for a moment, the things Sammy had said to him in his drunken sincerity. He wondered where the hell that vitriol had come from. He knew the boy was resentful about their lifestyle but he didn't realise it had got that bad. _All the more reason to put an end to this now_, he thought. _Just focus on this last hunt John and you'll be home free, the kids will be safe and you can get the boys into therapy or something. Try and repair some of the damage you've done._

Jesus, he'd really nearly beaten his kid! That was serious, he'd always vowed not to be like his father when it came to discipline. Besides the odd slap. For the most part he'd stuck to that... For the most part.

He wondered how much Dean remembered about his early childhood. John himself couldn't remember much before the age of six or seven and he'd hoped Dean would be the same, but that look in there... He remembered all right, and never said a word about it. He was sure that if he _had_ hit Sam that he would have seen another side of Dean.

Mary wouldn't have stood for it either, God that kid was so like his mother, not just in looks. It broke his heart sometimes. He'd sometimes say something or use a mannerism that was so like her that John thought she was in the room.

He put his head back and let himself drift to sleep. He'd need a couple of hours if he was going to drive all night. He didn't dream of monsters anymore, they were so prevalent in his everyday life that they rarely bothered his dreams. He didn't even dream about Vietnam or even the dead baby that had been haunting him since Midway. He dreamed of his wife, and children, laughing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When He went back into the room, he found the boys in bed. Dean was watching TV with the sound down and Sam was sleeping on his stomach like he always did. John went over to the bed and lightly touched Sam's sleeping head.

Dean looked up at him with red eyes, _had he been crying?_

"Hi Dad." He said softly.

"Hey Ace! Listen, I've decided to head for Sedona tonight."

"W..What?" Dean asked, hardly able to believe his ears.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to speak to the Shaman. I'll be a couple of days at the most. I'll call you when I know what's going on."

"But Dad... Here, in Gallup? Really?"

John put up his hand, silencing his son. " Shh! don't wake Sam! Listen, I know the past few days have been tough. You both could use some rest, so you stay here, you train, you rest, you watch him" He indicated Sam, " like a hawk, and I'll call for you when I have a plan" He got his bag from the corner, and extracted his wallet.

"Here." He gave Dean a wad of fifties. "If you run out use the credit card."

Dean swallowed down the words he wanted to say and watched helplessly as his father packed up his things.

"You be good now and watch your brother." John said out of habit, as though he were still speaking to a little boy. That's what it felt like, every time. He wanted to leave before emotion got the better of him.

"Dad?"

He turned, at the door. "Yeah son?"

"Be careful."

John smirked "Nothings got the best of me yet kid."

Dean smiled back at him. John took one last look at Sam and closed the door. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and steeled himself for what lay ahead.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As soon as the door closed, the smile disappeared from Dean's face. He got up and double checked all the salt lines, re-drew the devil's trap on the windowsill, and made sure the door was triple locked before he went back to bed. Turning off the light and Lying a little closer to Sam than he normally would.

Through the wall he heard a baby start to cry. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his fingers in his ears.

_So much for sleep._


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow! Review explosion! Thank you so much everyone, that's really encouraging!**

**Chapter 9 **

_Sam dreamed that night that he was three years old. He had just woken up, Dean was standing on a chair by the door talking to someone._

_"We're fine. I think the phone line got hit by lightning last night." He said. _

_There had been a thunderstorm last night. Sam had been so scared, he and Dean had climbed right under the covers with a flashlight. Dean wasn't scared though. He was a big boy, he was seven._

_He heard a man's voice. Daddy? He got out of bed and asked Dean if it was Daddy. Dean told him to go back to bed but he could see Dean was upset. He stood and watched the door, just in case._

_The man asked to come in and Dean threatened to shoot him. Sam started crying. Loudly. Dean was at his side trying to make him stop. He hugged him and told him it was ok but Sam wailed louder and louder until Dean tried to put his hand over his mouth._

_The man was yelling something through the door, something about candy. Sam stopped crying. His sobs becoming sniffles._

_Dean looked like he was going to start crying now, he knew daddy wouldn't like it. but he opened the door anyway._

_A man with a beard was there, he didn't look like a Bad Man. He was crouching down low in front of Sam holding out a lollypop. _

_"Hey little guy! It's ok, I'm a friend! "_

_Dean still had the gun pointed at him. But he looked less scared. _

_Suddenly Dean and Bobby dissapeared. He was standing alone in the room, still clutching the lollypop. A voice entered the dream, a cruel spiteful voice. _

_"That would be kind of funny if it weren't so sad." The voice mocked "He made all those rules to keep you boys safe, but he never taught you not to take candy from strangers. Good thing old Bobby wasn't a perv huh? You'd both have been toast."_

_"Shut up!" He shouted in his high pitched toddler's voice._

_"Oh Sammy! Why are you so angry? You know it's the truth, he doesn't care about you, not really. He just leaves whenever he wants, whenever it gets to be overwhelming for him. He leaves you with Dean and Dean, as we all know, will be whatever Daddy needs him to be, he'll absorb it all like a sponge. It's driving him slowly insane you know."_

_"Fuck off! He's saner than anyone I know!"_

_There was a thin reedy laugh. "You're too close to it to see it but you're so, so wrong. Of course it depends what your reference points for sanity are, and you certainly don't have many of those. No, Dean's losing it and eventually the stress of having to look after you, of having to be Mommy and Daddy... Will kill him."_

_"No! Stop it!" Sam yelled._

_"You know its true." The voice concluded simply. "No one can go on like that forever."_

He woke up with a jolt. He looked at the clock. 5.50am. Dean was sitting at the table staring at the door. Where was Dad? GOD his head hurt. _This must be a hangover. It feels like concussion._

"Dean?" He asked groggily.

"Go back to sleep Sammy. It's ok." Dean murmured, never talking his eyes off the door.

"Are you ok?" Asked Sam. Every word _hurt_, Echoing around his head.

"Yeah, just go to sleep bro."

Sam flopped back on the pillow, he didn't need to be told twice.

Dean watched the door. He couldn't explain why, he didn't usually do it, it just felt like something might bust in tonight. The baby started squalling again. He hummed tunelessly and blocked his ears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sedona is nestled among strange spires of rock that have an unusually strong magnetic field. The energy supposedly draws the paranormal. There is a rumour that if you make a wish at Bell Rock that it will come true, purely because of the broadcasting effect of the magnetic energy. Of course that also holds true for anything you particularly _don't_ want to happen. So if you go up to Bell Rock you'd damn well better have a positive mindset.

There are more psychics in Sedona than in any other town in America. Most of them are fakes. In fact, most psychics are fake period. But occasionally, through natural ability and specialised training there are people who can see into the future, or back in time, or tear though the veil and see the true nature of things. Most people don't like hearing the truth. That's why Matt Pawakwa lived near Bell Rock now and not on the reservation. He was drawn to the town by the beauty of the red rock spires and the peace he found in the desert scrub.

John approached his trailer in the midday sun, to find the old man sitting outside on a battered deck chair. Drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon.

"You Matt Pawakwa?" John asked

"That's me. Who might you be?"

"The name's John. I came across an article The Chronicle ran about you a year or two ago."

Matt smiled "Ah! That's would be the one that got me accused of making my tribe look 'Primitive and unschooled".

"That why you moved out here?"

"Yeah, and aren't you very curious for a man I've never met before. "

" Sorry...Look...I'm...I came looking for you because... I believe you."

Matt looked out from under his sunglasses. "That so? Well, you'd better have a beer then." He said, throwing John a can. The old man didn't seem to be a conversation starter. John began to explain himself nervously.

"I was reading about the fires on the Hopi reservation, three of them weren't they? You said they weren't regular arson, you... You were right. The thing that set those fires killed my wife."

If he had reacted, John couldn't see it behind his sunglasses. "You see it?" asked Matt

"I.. Well I caught a glimpse, It had yellow eyes."

Matt sighed. "That sounds like the same thing that attacked the reservation all right. I wish now I'd just let people believe it was arson."

"You'd lie to them?"

"What good did the truth do? The whole tribe called me a backward old fool . Then the local papers heard about what I said." He shuddered. "It wasn't the end of the world but it made people think less of me, then," He paused " there was a mishap a couple of years ago and I wasn't welcome anymore."

'I'm sorry," Said John. "I had to leave my home too. People thought I was insane, tried to take my children away."

"You have children?" The old man asked, his interest clearly piqued.

"Two boys."

"How old?" Matt asked sharply.

" Eighteen and fourteen. The attack happened in the baby's nursery."

Matt didn't say anything but John could see that he wanted to.

"What is it?"

Matt looked out at the sunny landscape nervously. "Lets talk about this inside." He said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam sat cross-legged on the bed, sulking. His brother's dictatorial attitude was starting to get him down. Dean freaked when Sam had tried to leave the room that morning. Told him He wasn't allowed outside.

Sam looked at Dean, who was lying down on the other bed, watching TV. He threw a pillow at him.

"Yeah I get it Dean you're mad at me, and I'm sorry for scaring you ok? But it was only a little vodka!"

Dean smirked "Actually I was more concerned about a pretty little girl like you hanging around a bar like that"

"Fuck off."

"Nope bitch, you're stuck with me. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Sam huffed, he'd tried using the puppy eyes but nothing was working

"I'm hungry."

"There' s stuff in the mini fridge."

"Come outside with me, C'mon I know you hate being stuck in here in the heat. Plus..." He raised and eyebrow " Yesterday I saw hot girls sitting outside the diner?"

"Nice try", Dean got up and turned on the air conditioner.

"They were about your age, one was Asian..."

Dean Just looked at him. "Sam, honestly, I'm tired."

Sam was genuinely non plussed, his brother could be fatigued, wounded and half starved, he'd still make an effort to chase skirt.

"Tired?" Sam said incredulously. Dean nodded. "Didn't you sleep?" He asked, suddenly feeling guilty, if Dean hadn't slept it was probably because of him going walkabout. "I'm sorry"

"For what?" Dean asked pinching the bridge of hs nose.

"For running off."

"Good." Dean muttered. "I'm sorry too. I should have covered for you. I just... Didn't think Dad would go so..." He stopped. He didn't like to think of his father that way.

Sam laughed out of shock. "Are you serious? _Cover_ for me? For God's sake Dean you do enough for me without taking the blame for shit that isn't your fault."

They sat watching the TV for a while then Sam piped up.

"He really was mad wasn't he?"

"Sure was." Said Dean, drowsily.

"Dean? Did you not sleep cause of me?"

"No Sammy," Dean sighed "there was a baby crying all night in the next room."

"I didn't hear it?" _Thank god_, he added mentally. He didn't think he could handle _that _particular sound on top of the nightmares.

"That's because you were in an alcohol induced coma dumbass."

Sam slouched on the bed. God he was starting to get sick of this room. He was sick of the pile of hex bags under the bed and the guns on the table and all the protective symbols and the salt and death and fear and paranoia and dead fucking babies.

He realised, right then, that he wanted out, he wanted out of the whole thing.

He regarded his brother, sleeping now. Snoring quietly. If only he could convince Dean... He suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness for his brother. He wished things could have been different for him. That he could have had some kind of life, a childhood that didn't involve him parenting a bratty kid.

"Shit!" He whispered putting his head in his hands. "Maybe I'm the one going slowly insane."

Then he heard the baby crying through the wall. Dean stirred but didn't wake. Sam couldn't stand it, memories of Midway started nudging at the corners of his mind.

He got up and crept to the door, pocketing 50 dollars from the nightstand as he went._ He'd go outside, away from the noise, just for a little while._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The trailer was so spare and utilitarian that John felt guilty for drinking the guy's beer, clearly not a lot of money in Matt's life. He had various protective symbols drawn on the walls, and bags of herbs by the doors and windows.

They sat at the fold out table and Matt pulled the curtains.

"Two years ago." He began. "A man bought his twelve year old daughter , Christie, to me. The kid had been having nightmares, bad ones. Violent, things little girls shouldn't know about. Her father was afraid to take her to the doctor. He thought he'd call CPS, think she was being abused."

"Was she?" Asked John.

Matt shook his head. "Visions." He said. She was seeing things far away, but real. some glimpses of the future too. Not a happy one I'm sorry to say.

"What did you tell the Father?"

"The truth, the same thing I said about the fires. That it was the work of an evil spirit."

"He didn't like that I'm guessing?"

"No" replied Matt with a sad laugh. "He didn't. You see, John, this Demon, it only killed the mothers because they interrupted it."

"What?" John sat up, "W... What's that supposed to mean?"

"It had plans for the children John, I'm not sure what it wants from them but it did something to them."

John felt the spreading numbness of panic in his chest. _No no no!_ He stood up. "What! What did it do?"

"Look." Matt said softly. "You're not going to want to hear this but you must listen to me."

John sat down again, shaking.

"The Demon gave those children abilities somehow, I thought it may have been a spirit spell at first but it lasted so long that... Well if it was possessing a human at the time it would probably have used a blood spell."

"A blood spell?" John did not like where this was going.

"I spoke with other spirits and they told me... The Demon fed the babies his blood."

"Fuck!" John put his hand over his mouth. "Sammy!" He got up , ready to run back to the car and drive straight to Gallup..

"John wait!" Matt warned. "I'm not done." John shut his eyes, not wanting to hear the rest.

" The blood, its like an infection, once its in, it's in. That girl, Christie. She went down a dark road. The visions got worse and she turned to drugs, alcohol. She kept running away. Nothing her father did seemed to help, then one day he found her hanging in her room. She was only fifteen."

John's eyes were welling up at the thought of Sam. His baby, being fed something so corrupt. "So what the hell do I do?"

"Well." Matt said softly. "You know the truth, that's a start, If he comes to you at least you'll believe him."

_If he comes to me_. John thought. He realised, with sadness, that he couldn't ever remember Sam coming to him with a problem. Or Dean for that matter.

"Secondly" Said Matt. You keep those children as far away from the thing as you can, and thirdly. If you're psychic, you're very open to possession. It's very, very foolish to move to a town that's a magnet for the supernatural. "

Matt removed his glasses, to reveal two yellow orbs.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

'Oh try not to look so surprised!"

The demon flicked it's wrist and hurled John across the trailer, he hit the back wall hard and lay among the splintered chipboard and glass. Pain made his vision blur. It Stepped through the rubble grinning as it came.

"John, I think we should see other people. Don't get me wrong, you've been a good little mouse, I've had my fun, but sometimes you just make it too easy. I mean, that little interlude in South Dakota was amusing to say the least, but I didn't think you'd come running so _fast!_"

John scrambled backwards but the Demon's invisible power pulled him forwards and pinned him to the floor. He tried to call for help but found his tongue wouldn't move. He stared up at the Demon with such hatred that it almost obliterated his fear.

The creature Blinked it's yellow eyes slowly, lazily, like a lizard. "Oh I know you do John. You hate me with such passion. It's quite exhilarating! Of course now you know that I _violated _your child. Your _infant._ It makes it all the sweeter." He stroked his chin. "Maybe I'll keep you around a little longer eh? We can catch up on some gossip. Then I'll go find the kiddies and have some fun with them."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam wandered around town, in and out of Indian trading shops. He browsed the glass cases full of silver and turquoise jewellery. Wandered past rows of wooden flutes and precious stones, kachina dolls, endless Kokopelli figurines. He felt strangely peaceful walking on his own. His mind went blank and before he knew it it was getting dark. He'd lost track of time.

_Oh Christ! Dean's gonna kick my ass! _He thought, beginning to panic. He was filled with the childish urge to hide from the punishment he'd surely receive if he went back to the motel.

He couldn't handle Dean angry at him. He could happily work Dad into a fury. He'd probably even be able to live with Dad following though with last night's threat of a beating. But Dean? No. He knew Dean wouldn't freak out in the same way as Dad would, but that the disappointment and heartache in his eyes would be too much to bear.

So he kept walking out of town, postponing the inevitable return to the motel. Because he would go back eventually, of course, he had to. He had nowhere else to go. Did he?

He looked up and realised the he was about half a mile out of down on the dusty highway that was Route 66. It was a quiet time of evening with only a few vehicles passing. The moon was out. He shivered,_ should have bought a sleeping bag, could have slept out in the scrub, given Dean time to cool off... Or get even angrier. Hell, he'll probably follow through on Dad's threat at this rate. _

He saw lights behind him. A blue van pulled up. A woman in her mid 20's put her head out the window. Long , straight black hair glistened in the moonlight. "You need a lift?" She asked.

"Um... Where are you going?" Sam asked her.

"Winslow, Arizona." She replied

"Like the song?"

"Yeah like the song! She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. Hop in kid."

Sam hesitated for a moment. He knew he should say no, walk back to town and face the music. Make peace with the claustrophobic room and everything it meant. If he'd been a little older he might have. But he was fourteen, confused, afraid and selfish, in the way that kids are. So he got in the car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean woke up and blinked blearily. The clock said 7pm. He sat up with a groan and looked around.

"Sam?"

There was no reply. He jumped up and looked in the bathroom. Then ran out onto the walkway.

"SAMMY?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Her name was Fiona. She was twenty four, and had just broken up with her boyfriend. She was going on a road trip. She'd followed Route 66 all the way from Springfield Missouri. Sam had been impressed by the stack of postcards she'd collected, one from each state. She'd been curious as to why he was alone on the road. She told him off for it. _Anyone_ could have picked him up she'd said.

"It's just lucky for you that I came along and not some pervert." She scolded. "What are you doing out here by yourself anyway?"

"I'm on a road trip too." Sam said cryptically.

"Where you headed?"

"Wherever."

"Trouble at home huh?" She asked, knowingly.

"You could say that." He mumbled.

"Look kid... Sam," she replied "I don't presume to know what the problem is, but running away on you own isn't the way to deal with it."

"I'll be fine, I'm safer now than I was at home." He said.

She looked at him, keeping one eye on the road. "Fuck, sorry to hear that! 'Cause, you know, fourteen year olds hitchhiking alone at night. That aint safe, at all. I'd feel pretty bad if I let you off at Winslow and saw your name in a headline a day later, y' know what I'm saying?"

Sam nodded. "Be streetwise, got it."

"Yeah, or you could just stick with me 'till Flagstaff. That's where my friend Marie lives. She could find you a safe place to stay for a bit."

"Wow... Really?" Sam was little overwhelmed by her generosity on her friend's behalf.

"Yeah, you know, we've all been through some tough shit Sam. It's never easy being a teenager and even harder when you're family's jacked to hell."

"You have no idea." He said quietly, looking out at the stars.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By 9 am the next day, Dean had reached a point beyond hysteria. He'd been searching all night and the gnawing knowledge in the back of his mind that he should call Dad was starting to weigh on him. He thought at first that he could find Sam, kick his ass and never have to mention it to John. But now... It had been 12 hours since he had seen the kid. What to do? Tell the cops to put out an amber alert? Call Bobby? Call John? He shuddered at the thought of pulling his father away from the hunt for this. _No , you're an adult dammit! act like one! You can find one fucking kid. You can! You have to!._

He squinted in the sunlight. His eyes kept closing of their own accord. He went over to the group of men outside a bar and asked them again if they'd seen Sam, showing them one of his pictures from a fake ID.

They shook their heads. One of them asked if he'd told the police. He lied and said he had. He rounded the corner and rested his forehead on the wall, blinking away tears. _Don't lose it! Don't you dare! _He hit his head off the wall. _You hold it together Winchester! You find that little SOB._

_What if he didn't leave of his own accord?_ A little voice in his head asked. _What if something took him? What if some__**one**__ took him?_ Dean didn't know which scenario was more terrifying. Monsters he knew about. He could handle monsters. It was people that worried him. _What if someone hurt him?_ He pushed the idea out of his mind, too horrible to countenance. _No He ran off. You should never have fallen asleep. You should have been watching him. Jesus! you should have **t**__**alked **__to him. _

"FUCK!" He yelled. banging his head against the wall again. He didn't even have a _car._ Well, that at least could be remedied. He'd find and old banger and get her going. Then he was gong to get his brother. God help the little runt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John regained consciousness after yet another flight around the trailer. The demon was watching him from a chair.

"Rise and shine!" He said brightly. John glared at it to the best of his ability. One eye was swollen shut, he definitely had concussion and who knows what other injuries. He still couldn't move. The demon's power held him flat on the floor.

"Welcome back to the land of the , amazingly still, living John. Have you had enough yet? Want me to finish it?"

John forced his lips apart. "Up yours!" He snarled. Before his mouth snapped shut. Teeth slamming together.

The demon sniggered. "You sound just like your son! You know I've been visiting little Sammy, in his sleep. You see we have,." He grinned lasciviously, "a special connection."

John wanted nothing more than to tear the creature's heart out with his bare hands. Even knowing that all it would accomplish would be killing Matt Pawakwa. _Poor Matt, I wonder if he's even alive in there?_

The demon continued to monologue like the villain in a Bond movie. Pacing the floor.

"Your boy has some issues with you, did you know that? He thinks you were a little _gung-ho_ killing that baby!. Of course you and I both know she wouldn't have even made it out to the car, but Sammy didn't need much convincing that you made a bad judgement call."

John struggled on the floor _You son of a bitch!_

"Of course, John, you're somewhat experienced in the field of mercy killing aren't you? After Bill Hareville , and that ..._Nasty_ business during the war. Did anyone ever find out about that or did you keep it to yourself I wonder?" It cocked its head looking at him for a long moment. "Yes of course you did, you keep everything to yourself don't you? You do it to protect other people, like Sam and Dean. Well, a fine job you did of protecting them this time! I'm going to be paying them a little visit shortly. But first .."

John gasped in pain as the demon pointed a finger at him and he felt his ribs crack. One by one. The Demon was almost ecstatic with pleasure, its eyes glowing like klieg lights. John felt it's grip on his vocal chords loosen. I_t wants to hear me scream. _He realised.

He inhaled deeply, but instead of screaming, he began to chant in Latin.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

There was an insistent beeping. John opened his eyes. The light was low, the room swam into focus. Hospital. He could feel the drugs, opiates, he knew the feeling well.

A sweet looking nurse, a girl of about twenty, was sitting in the corner. She got up and approached the bed.

"Hi Mister Colvin." She whispered "You're all right, you're in hospital."

_Colvin? Ah! Colvin! on the insurance card._ "Matt?" John ground out roughly, his throat felt like someone had been at it with a belt sander.

"The Old man?" He's in intensive care. "It's lucky you found him when you did but it doesn't look good I'm afraid."

John shut his eyes. The last thing he could remember after the black smoke exiting Matt's mouth was the old man collapsing, spitting blood. He had made a call to 911, then... Things got fuzzy.

"How long?" He murmured though the morphine haze.

"You were bought in the day before yesterday, you went in for surgery, you had a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder and hip and some deep lacerations."

"Matt?"

Her face clouded. "They must have been torturing him for quite some time," she said sadly. "God bless you for trying to help him. Do you remember anything about the men who did this? The police will want to talk to you."

John turned his head away and looked at the wall.

"No, I don't remember."

"Can we call someone for you?"

"Yeah, actually. Can... Can you bring me a phone?"

"Sure thing sweetie." She said softly.

She returned with a phone a while later and plugged it in. Then disappeared to let him make his call in private. He quickly called Bobby. Getting the machine.

"Bobby!" He croaked into the receiver. "The son of a bitch is after the boys! It was exorcised a couple of days ago. I don't know how long it will take to get back topside. I'm in Hospital in Sedona. They have me so pumped up on Morphine I can hardly stand. I need you to head out to Gallup as soon as you can... Please?"

He might have been drugged up but at least it killed the pain enough for him to pull the IV out and drag himself across the room and to the closet, dripping blood from his hand as he went. He found some scrubs he could trade in for his hospital gown. The pain in his hip was evident despite the Morphine but without it he knew walking wold be nigh on impossible.

The nurse wasn't out in the hall, thank God.

He wished he could get into intensive care and check on Matt, but it was too risky. He saw an elevator at the end of the hall. There was always an emergency exit somewhere down in basement level.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean had reached the other side of exhaustion. He'd stopped functioning properly and could hardly physically move with tiredness . Yet still couldn't sleep. He was back at the _Totem_. Sitting on one of the beds, rocking slightly.

He'd driven for miles, asked everyone who may have even seen a glimpse of his brother, and all he could come up with was a sighting of a boy who may or may not have been Sam, walking around an Indian trader's at around 5.30 three days before.

Days had ceased to matter. Hours melded together. He couldn't stop looking, He couldn't rest. Not while Sammy was out there, maybe in danger, maybe hurt... _Nononono_! The same thoughts kept going around in his head. "_Taken by a demon, bitten by a werwolf, attacked by a spirit, wendigo, shifter,abducted by some random human..._

The possibilities were endless and yet one kept popping into his head unbidden.

_Ran away._

At first he had let his anger fuel his search, _when I get my hands on him_... But now it had dulled to an ache in his chest, like a solid metal band was putting pressure on his heart. He wondered how long it had been since he'd eaten anything? He couldn't remember. He felt too sick to eat. he'd run out of options. he'd have to call someone.

Someone called_ him._ The phone rang and he eyed it for a long moment. Then picked it up with a shaking hand.

_"Dean?"_

"D.. Dad?"

_"Hi son."_ John's voice was soft and hesitant. Far away.

_"Dad?"_ Dean said again. Stiff as a post.

_"Son, are you ok?"_

"Y... Yeah." he stammered out "You?"

_"I'm fine, listen, I'm coming back. The hunt got a little hairy... I'm ok mind, just...I'm coming back."_

"Ok." Dean breathed. His heart pumping a mile a minute.

_"Are you ok Dean?"_

"Yeah... Yeah I'm fine Dad." He wanted so badly to spill his guts but something was stopping him. John sounded... Fragile? He just couldn't tell him, not now, not while there was still a chance to rectify the situation.

_"How's Sammy?"_

_"_He's... He's ok, in the shower." Dean nearly choked on the words. _God this feels like a bad dream. maybe I'm dreaming?_

_"Dean listen to me ok. Now I don't want you to freak out, don't be frightened ok?"_

"Wh... What is it Dad?"

_"The Demon. It's been talking to Sam, in his dreams. That's why he hasn't been sleeping. You need to make sure the room's secure then hunker down and wait for me. Make sure you're packed and ready to run if you need to."_

"Ok." Dean felt his mouth go dry, if he'd had anything in his stomach he would have thrown up right there.

_"Good boy, I'll be there soon. Then we'll head back to Bobby's and plan again. Be careful Son."_

He hung up.

_Fuuuuuck! _The Demon had been talking to Sam? What the hell? It could come looking for them! Oh shit! What if... What if that's what had taken him!

Dean sank down onto his knees on the ugly motel carpet. He needed to keep going... He didn't have long before Dad got home.

_How?_

he forced himself up onto his feet and staggered to the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water. It didn't help. Then he found himself sitting in the floor, _how did that happen?_

He stared at the dirty grout between the while tiles, unable to move or think... Or sleep.

"Sammy please be ok." He whispered as tears rolled silently down his face.

John Got back to Gallup in the early hours. The sun was rising. Thank God he hadn't been pulled over. Speeding, driving whilst intoxicated, escaped from hospital and wanted for questioning by the police. Boy that would look good.

He was still a little out of it but the drugs were starting to wear off and the pain of his injuries made it hard to get up the stairs to their room. He wanted to run in, Grab the kids and get them the hell out of town. His body's agonizingly slow progress frustrated him.

He knocked three times on the door, there was no reply. _Shit!_ he started to panic. He knocked again, then kicked the lock in.

The room was a total shambles, it looked as though a bomb had hit it. He looked around frantically for the boys. "Sam!" Dean!" He yelled.

The bathroom door was open, he found Dean, sitting up against the wall, staring, almost trace like.

"Dean!" he rushed over to the boy and sank down on his knees. Taking his son's face in his hands. "Dean what happened?"

Dean jumped with shock when he looked at John. As though he hadn't felt his hands.

"Dad!" He said desperately. Then mumbled something low. John couldn't believe his ears.

"What? Where's your brother?"

"He ran off... I lost him" Dean whispered again.

"When?" John snapped. Every second counted.

"Three Days." Dean whispered through chattering teeth.

John realized, even with his fuzzy head, that Dean had lied to him on the phone. The blow landed before John even realised he'd raised his hand. The sound of the slap reverberated through the small tiled room.

_"What!_ Wh... _HOW?_" John demanded to know. Expecting Dean to straighten up and report. "You tell me what happened!" He cried, He felt as though he wasn't on the floor anymore. As though he were literally levitating with terror.

When he didn't get the desired response, and Dean continued to stare groggily at the wall behind him, John's fear and anger got the better of him and he slapped the boy again...And again.

He lost track of how many times he hit the kid but by the time he finally realised what he was doing, his stoical soldier had crumbled. He was shaking and sobbing spasmodically, his hands over his head.

He wasn't even trying to defend himself.

John gasped, abruptly grabbing Dean by the arms and pulling the shivering boy to his chest , squeezing him tight. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! " He chanted as rocked his son.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bus from Santa Fe bought Bobby into Gallup at around 3pm. He hated flying but after the got John's message he knew time was of the essence. Once he had located the motel, he legged it up the stairs three at a time and hammered on the door.

John opened it.

"Holy Hell man are you ok?" Bobby asked, shocked at John's bedraggled appearance.

John nodded. Finger against his lips, he gestured toward one of the beds. Dean was sleeping , bundled up under several blankets despite the heat. John went to the small table in the corner, and poured Bobby a whiskey.

"What happened?" Asked Bobby, then realisation dawned "Where's Sam!"

John pulled out a chair for him. "Sam ran off."

Bobby's eyes widened in surprise. "Ran off! Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." Said John quietly , so as not to wake Dean. "He did the same thing a few night ago. Found him drunk in the bushes." Bobby shook his head, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

"What the hell John? That aint like him!"

"Yeah, I know." John winced and took a swig of Whiskey from the bottle. "He'd been having a hard time sleeping, the... Demon said..." He paused. He knew he could trust Bobby, but just _how_ much? He was a hunter after all. He decided to skip the information about the blood.

"What John? What did it say?"

"It said it had been talking to him in his dreams Bobby,"

"Oh my God."

"It's been messing with his head ever since Midway, and that's on top of what _happened_ in Midway. Bobby, I've been such a fool. I should have talked to him!"

John looked so distraught that for a moment Bobby thought he was going to break down.

"Any lead on where he went?"

"Dean said someone saw him in a shop in town around 5pm three days ago." John looked sadly over at the sleeping figure of his son.

Bobby's eye wandered to the bed. "He ok?"

"No." John replied honestly. "He's been running himself ragged, he lost it, forgot every bit of training he ever had and just panicked."

"Understandable." Bobby said defensively, not liking John's tone.

John grunted. "Kid hadn't eaten and barely drank in three days, hadn't slept either. He'd been driving around in that condition in some old wreck he found at a scrap yard."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I told him to call me if he needed help." He said irately. "Why didn't he call _you_?"

"He was afraid to." John stated simply, this subtext clear. _Afraid of me._

Bobby looked suspiciously at John, then went over to the bed, walking as quietly as he could. He leaded over the sleeping boy. Dean looked exhausted even in sleep. His freckles stood out against his pale skin. So did the bruises. Pulling the blanket down slightly, Bobby took in the dark welts on the boy's cheekbone and jaw, then gently turned his head and saw the mottled eye socket.

He fixed John with a cold stare.

"Could I have a word with you outside?" He said curtly, pushing past John's chair and leaving the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As John closed the door Bobby decked him, laying him flat on the metal walkway.

"How dare you!" Bobby yelled, towering over John's prone form. "How fucking _dare_ you!"

John didn't try to get up, he let his head fall back onto the tin and stared up at the sky. He had nothing to say, no excuse.

"Deserved that." He said

"You deserve a Damn sight more than that! Bobby shouted. The only reason I don't beat the hell outa you is that you've been injured! What the HELL John? This is _Dean_! The kid _lives_ to please you! I just..." He was lost for words.

"I know." Whispered John, tears in his eyes. "I know I was wrong."

Bobby found himself on a roll. All the years of keeping his mouth shut suddenly bore down on him.

"Damn right you were! It's all very well you ask him to be your soldier and Sam's _mother_! I will not stand by and let you make him your_ punch bag_ too! I don't care what he did! How irresponsible he was! He's your KID John and you're going the right way to make him into a victim! What kind of hunter will he be then huh? When he's too afraid to do anything exept lay there and _take_ it?"

John looking up at him. The guy looked so totally defeated that Bobby stopped his tirade. Staring sadly at the man he kinda sorta considered his friend.

"You stay here John. I'll find Sam" he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" John called. "Bobby, no! I need to talk to Sam myself!"

Bobby swung around.

"No, way John! I don't trust you with him. Not with your temper."

"Bobby, he left _me_, not Dean, or you. I have to be the one to get him back or he won't _come_ back."

"Exactly John, the kid made a choice and your usual methods..." He pointed angrily at the door ... "Aren't going to work on him! Dean might let you walk all over him but Sam's a different kid. You treat him like that and you'll lose him forever!"

"I know. Bobby I know. I just... I have to talk to him, you have to believe me."

"About what?" Bobby demanded. he wasn't giving in this easily.

"About ..." John was clearly having trouble getting the words out. "About Midway."

Bobby's face softened a little. "What happened in Midway John? No lies."

"There was a baby..."

"Yeah you told me that."

"No... Bobby I didn't tell you... She was alive, she was still alive when we found her."

Bobby's blood ran cold. He knew what was coming. "No John!" He groaned.

John nodded, in tears now. "Bobby I had to... She was..." He swallowed, looking nauseous. " It had gutted the little thing."

Bobby reached down and grabbed John's hand pulling him to his feet. He held his shoulder and looked him right in the eye. "Of course you had to John. You had no choice, you did good." He said, truthfully.

"Sam thinks... Sam thinks I jumped the gun. the Demon told him that."

Bobby was calm now. He squeezed John's shoulder.

"I'll take care of Dean. You go bring your boy home."


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for the reviews everyone! It's so nice to know people are enjoying it! xxx**

**Chapter 12**

Dean swam back up toward consciousness. Sunlight bathed his face, He kept his eyes shut. God, he felt hungover. The last thing he remembered was Dad putting him to bed and trying to get him to drink some water out of a plastic cup.

"Dad?" He murmured

"Hi Dean." He heard a voice nearby. He opened his eyes to see Bobby sitting beside the bed.

"Hi Bobby." He was confused "What happened?"

"You didn't call me for help, that's what happened." Despite Bobby's irate words his manner was gentle.

"Sorry... I... I thought I could handle it" He said sadly. " And... I..." He stammered Shamefaced. " I thought you'd tell Dad on me. "

"Tell on you? Boy you didn't do anything _wrong_!" Bobby tried to look him in the eye but Dean looked away as though he didn't hear him.

"Where's Dad?" He asked.

"He's gone to bring your brother home. Mean while I'm supposed to get some food and drink in you and take you home with me."

Dean stiffened. "B... But I can help! I can!" He exclaimed, panicked. "I swear Bobby, you've got to tell him! I'll be good!" His eyes were wide. Bobby didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

"Calm down now. You're exhausted, dehydrated and half starved. All you need to do right now is rest."

"No! " He cried out. "I'm fine Bobby, really, I can easily help find Sam!" Dean tried to get out of bed but Bobby stopped him, pushing him back down against the pillows. Dean struggled to get out of his grip. "Let me go Dammt!"

"What's going on here Dean?" Asked Bobby with concern.

"I...I'm sorry, I have to tell him I'm sorry!"

"For what?"

"Look Bobby I fucked up and lost Sam. I really, really dropped the ball and then I lied to him!"

"Yeah well no wonder..." Bobby said, gently touching the bruise on Dean's cheek. he winced and drew back.

"It's nothing." He muttered.

"Don't look like nothing." Bobby replied, still simmering with rage just looking at the kid's battered face.

_"Now_...He's leaving. He's going to leave..." Dean said softly.

The penny dropped for Bobby then._ Oh my God John you jackass! Why didn't you explain to him?_

"Dean, your Dad's not leaving you with me for _good!_ I know he was mad boy but he wasn't that mad! He just wanted me to take care of you since you _clearly _haven't been taking care of yourself! He's coming back kid! Got it?"

Dean nodded. Bobby hoped Dean believed him.

"And another thing." He said, knowing he had to say it if only for his own conscience. 'It wasn't you're fault Sam took off. And even if it was..." He pointed to Dean's black eye. "That aint 'nothing'." Even if you_ had_ seriously fucked up. That don't give anyone the right to rough you up."

Dean didn't reply, just looked at the wall. They sat silently until he finally piped up.

"Was he mad at Sam? He said he was going to beat the tar out of him if he ran off again."

"I'd say he's mad as hell. But don't worry, I don't think he'll go off on the kid."

"Maybe he deserves it." Dean said bitterly. Bobby was surprised. Not that Dean didn't have a right to be angry.

" Deserves it? You really think so?"

"I dunno..." Dean said softly. "Bobby, can we just go?"

Bobby considered it for a minute. On one hand Dean still looked dead on his feet, on the other hand they'd both be a lot safer back in Soux Falls. He decided Dean was right.

"Ok, we'll get the greyhound, I know how you feel about flying. Lets get some food first though."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, starting to pack up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John surveyed the security tapes from the gas station. Hours of footage, he fast forwarded through most of it.

"Would you like a coffee detective?" The manager asked, poking his head around the door.

"No, thanks." John replied, engrossed. Then, something caught his eye. He rewound the tape. There he was, a skinny figure, walking past, dragging his feet. He checked the time marker. 6.56

"Gocha!" He exclaimed. As he headed out of the office. He checked the map on the wall. "Next stop Winslow. I'm on the way Sammy, you little..." He didn't finish his thought. Remembering his promise to Bobby that he would keep his cool. Easier said than done. Right now he was ready to strangle the kid.

Winslow's a tiny town, where the Eagle's "Takin' it Easy" plays in every single store on a loop. It sure was pretty though. John's first stop had been the tourist office. A middle aged man was serving behind the counter. John approached him , holding out a recent picture of Sam.

"Excuse me sir. I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for a missing child. Have you seen this boy by any chance? He would have come through town a couple of days ago."

The man squinted at the picture. "Can't say that I have." He said, but Steffie was working this week... STEFFIE!" He yelled over his shoulder. An old lady appeared out of the back room.

"Yeah?" She asked "What's up?"

"You seen this boy Ma'am?" John showed her the picture.

"Oh! Yeah, I have. He came in a couple of days ago with his sister. They were buying postcards. They in some kind of trouble?"

"No, just runaways Ma'am."

"Well they looked pretty happy to me!" the woman continued, "and the girl weren't no runaway, she was at least 20 and had her own van."

"What kind of van?" John asked quickly.

"Dark blue Ford." She replied dismissively. "They parked it right out front. "

John turned to the Man, who watched suspiciously from the counter. "Sir do you happen to have CCTV cameras outside?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean and Bobby sat in the bar next door to the _Totem_ waiting for the bus. Dean was vacuuming food like he hadn't eaten in a week. _Nothing unusual there, _thought Bobby. He sipped his beer thoughtfully. He wondered how long it would take Dean to forgive his brother, and If John would keep his word and restrain himself. It wouldn't be easy that was for sure. Bobby knew he was going to have a hard time not clobbering the kid himself.

Ah, but who knew what kind of pain the boy was in when he took off ? He _had _called for help. Bobby had to give him that. He'd called for help and Bobby had largely dismissed his fears as childish.

"Dean? Did you know Sam called me a a day or two before he ran away?"

Dean looked up, his expression blank. "Yeah, he told me he missed you." He replied curtly.

"No, he called because of the hunt. You see, he was certain that your daddy was running off half cocked, that he was going to get himself, and you, killed. I have to say, after hearing how spectacularly badly John did in Sedona I'm inclined to think he was right."

Dean said nothing. He knew Sam had been worried. _Still, no excuse._

"It got me thinking..." Bobby continued, choosing his words carefully. "That maybe he ran out to the bar that night and got in trouble on purpose... On some level"

"Why would he do that?" Dean mumbled, never looking up from his plate.

"Because it would keep you with him at the motel the next day instead of Sedona with your dad."

Dean continued to eat. After a bit he mumbled " Maybe."

Bobby smiled. _Yeah, they'd get over it._

There was a sharp noise behind them and Dean looked up , wide eyed, as though he'd been stung. "No way!" He whispered.

"Dean?" Bobby looked in the direction of Dean's horrified stare and saw that the source of the noise was a baby. At a table across the room, by the window, about 6 months old. It was crying with a high pitched intensity, its little cheeks red. It's teenage mother looked tired beyond reason and close to tears.

"Dean? You all right son?" Asked Bobby, worried about what this could signify. Dean ignored him. Getting up from the table and walking over to the girl, who was jogging the kid on her knee. Entreating it to _please_ be _quiet._

He sat down beside the girl and spoke to her. He always did have a way with the ladies, and this one was clearly no exception, because she had no problem with him taking the baby out of her arms.

Bobby watched, slack jawed, as Dean cradled the infant in one arm, talking to it. then took an ice cube out of the girls coke and , holding it between his thumb and forefinger, popped it into the babies mouth, dabbing it on it's gums.

Almost instantly the crying ceased. He smiled at the girl and passed the baby back to her. The girl sighed with relief, smiling at Dean with genuine gratitude. She continued to dab the ice cube on the babies gums.

"I'm so in!" Dean grinned as he sat down opposite Bobby again. "Lets hang around a little longer. If we get lucky she might start breast-feeding."

"Nice talk. What the hell did you do to that baby?"

"Ice." Said Dean, shrugging. "For teething. Kids been wailing up a storm in the room next door all week."

"So you hadn't been getting much sleep then?"

"No." Replied Dean. If I'd known it was teething I'd have suggested that days ago. It always worked on..." He trailed off.

"On Sammy." Finished Bobby.

"Yeah. On Sammy." Dean rejoined, with a sad smile.

"You know Dean", Bobby said softly. "John told me what happened in Midway."

Dean paled and for a moment Bobby was sorry he'd bought it up. But it needed to be said.

"Did he?"

"Yeah, he's still pretty cut up about it."

"I imagine he would be." Said Dean, closed off again.

"You want to talk about it, you know I'm here." He said earnestly. Dean looked him in the eyes.

"You know what Bobby? I really don't." he said, then smiled a big smile. "Lets go catch that bus! I'm sick of this place! They paid their bill and left. Dean winked at the young mother on the way out. His smile disappeared as he gave the baby a lingering look.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took a full ten days to find him. The entire time he tried to keep tabs on the demon, but the thing seemed to have taken a sabbatical. Maybe separating Sam from his family had been it's plan all along?

The student, Marie, had been the last hurdle. Her friend Fiona had been the one to drive Sam to Flagstaff, and the last place they'd stayed had been her dorm room. She'd been unwilling to tell John anything and getting in her face hadn't exactly helped his case that he wasn't an abusive drunk or a maniac.

Eventually he'd told her a half truth. He'd said that Sam's Mother had died, that he wasn't dealing with it well and everyone was terribly worried about Sam's delicate mental state, which wasn't entirely false either.

She'd given him directions to her father's hunting cabin. He never used it, she said. She'd given Sam a key, thinking it was a lot safer than the streets. John was secretly grateful that the two girls had taken care of the kid. He put up a silent prayer that he hadn't run into anyone less than savoury on the road.

The path into the woods was bumpy with tree roots and overgrown. He eventually had to get out of the car and walk. _Good_, he thought, _it's hidden._

He smiled despite himself when he came upon the shack. It was pretty dilapidated but defiantly a fourteen year old boy's idea of heaven.

The door was open, a golden retriever ran out, barking, it's tail wagging. John reached down and patted it, it had a collar with a tag. _Hello my name is Bones. If I'm lost please call __(928) 526-5964_

"That's one hell of a guard dog Sammy." He whispered. He entered the cabin. Sam was standing inside , the other side of a old wooden table. Shotgun aimed.

"Dad!" He yelped, clearly shocked. He lowered the gun immediately but kept his distance.

"Sammy." Whispered John, taking in sight of his son alive and unharmed, his hair unbrushed, a little skinnier than usual but _there_ in one piece.

"How did you find me?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm a hunter Kiddo. It's what I do." He took a few steps toward his son. Sam raised the gun again.

"Christo!" He shouted.

John laughed, despite himself. "It's me Sammy. I know being alone in the woods can make you a bit paranoid."

Sam seemed convinced. He put the gun on the table and sat down

"I'm not leaving." He said, looking right at his father. Sam wasn't beng defiant, he was stating a fact.

"Yeah, I'm afraid you are." Said John sitting opposite him.

"You can't make me."

"I think you'll find that I can. But I don't want to _make_ you. I want you to come back to your family."

Sam looked away, ashamed. "Do I have one?" he said quietly.

"What are you talking about? Of _course _you have! Jesus what kind of number did that Demon do on you?"

"What?" Sam looked genuinely confused.

"Sammy, the thing I was hunting. It was messing with your dreams. It told me so."

Sam was silent for a moment, the he nodded, as though it confirmed something for him. "You're wrong." Sam said. 'It showed me my future."

"And?"

"And I didn't have a family. You and Dean were dead."

"Oh Sammy! You know Demon's lie... We're both fine."

"Then where is he?" Asked Sam nervously, staring at his shoelaces.

"He's at Bobby's. He nearly went crazy trying to find you."

Sam looked away. "He must hate me."

"No Sam, he doesn't hate you. He's mad as hell, and worried out of his mind, but he doesn't hate you. Neither do I."

"So you're both ok _now_, but one day... One day you won't be. So I'll be alone either way. I'd rather be alone here. I'm happy here." He said decisively.

"You're happy in this shack?"

"Yeah, it's peaceful, I don't have nightmares. I'm not scared all the time. I have the dog for company. That's all I need."

"Sammy we both know that's not true."

"How would you know?" Sam yelled suddenly, getting to his feet. "You don't know what it's like! To be afraid all the time! You're brave! Dean's brave! I'm _not!_ I can't even remember the last time I wasn't afraid before I came here!"

John's heart broke to hear the admission. "The rest of the world won't disappear just 'cause you ignore it Sam!"

Sam cleared his throat, wiping tears out of his eyes with his shirt sleeve "You know, these woods are safe. There aren't too many things that hide in the woods, not really. Deer hunters have used this cabin for_ years_ and all they've run into are deer. If you left me here I'd be safer than I would be with _you_." He said.

"Sammy, that's not true." _Do I tell him? he wondered, Tell him what that thing did to him? That he's bound to a demon somehow? No!_ He decided. He'd protect him from that knowledge at least. "Ok... He corrected himself. It _might_ be true, but... I can't leave you here. I can't do it."

"Why not? I don't get it Dad! I'm useless to you in a hunt, I'm not made for it. I hate the lifestyle! Why can't you just let me _go_?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE MY SON!" John yelled, slamming his fist on the table. Sam jumped and backed away from him. _Dial it down John, you're not helping yourself. _He took a deep breath, calming the fire in his belly. "Because we're _family_, and if that doesn't count for anything then what have I been doing all these years?"

Sam stood against the back wall, his face white as a sheet.

"Dad." He said softly and steadily as he could. "I love you, and I love Dean. But I can't do what I'm gonna have to do."

"What do you mean Sam? Something in the imaginary future a demon showed you? The future isn't written in stone son!"

"No", Sam agreed. Pacing up and down by the back wall. "But some things_ are_. Like the fact that hunter's die young, almost _always_. That they usually die fighting something with claws and teeth, and that..." He swallowed thickly, "more often than not, some other hunter has to finish them off!" The last part came out in a rush. He started to cry. John wanted nothing more than to grab him and wrap him in his arms but he knew Sam wouldn't stand for it. "And... And you get so used to it that you think nothing of... Of just..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Sammy? Is this about the baby?" John asked. Afraid of the answer, afraid that the demon had been truthful in this instance, and his son mistrusted his judgement that much.

Sam's head snapped up. The couple of times John had referred to the incident it had been to "The hunt", "The other day.", "Midway." Not the heart of the matter. Sam stared at him silently.

"Sammy, That little girl..." Sam flinched. "She would have been dead by the time I got her out to the car I promise you that."

"You don't _know_ that!" Sam hissed at him. "She might have... With surgery and stuff... You never know for sure! We could have... We could have saved her... Maybe..." He finished lamely. John realised then just how young his son was. Still clinging to a childish belief in miracles, to a hope in general that had been beaten out of _him_ long ago.

"Sam sit down, I want to tell you a story." He murmured. Sam cautiously sat down on the floor, as far from the table as he could.

"When I was in Vietnam, I was 19 years old. One of my first experiences on the ground was witnessing the aftermath of a massacre. A whole village of our allies, had been killed." He didn't go into details. "Me and my commanding officer. Sergeant Roth. A man I greatly admired..." He stopped for a second, controlling his emotions. "Were separated from the platoon...H... He went ahead of me into a house. There was a mine buried in the floor. He was injured, bad...Organs exposed bad. I was lying there pissing myself and crying, and when the smoke cleared I...I walked over to him and, he was choking on his own blood, but he could still give orders. He ordered me to shoot him in the head." John stopped, breathing deep, he looked at the floor, out the windows, anywhere but at Sam.

"And you had to do it." Sam said quietly.

John shook his head, unable to stop his tears now. "No Sammy,_ I didn't_. I couldn't bring myself to do it." He looked at his son, both their eyes swimming with tears. "I couldn't pull the trigger, even with him _begging_ me. It took him an _hour _to die. And I let it happen. I watched that happen, every last second, and I have never been as ashamed of anything in my life."

"Dad..." Sam's voce cracked. He got up and rounded the table. Stood in front of his father.

"So I swore to myself then that I would never , _ever _let anyone else die in that kind of pain if I could end their suffering. I couldn't let that baby die like that Sam! Even if it would have been just a few more seconds of it."

He hadn't expected Sam's weight and he was nearly knocked off the chair as the kid threw himself into his lap. His skinny arms squeezing him so tight his cracked ribs screamed. But he didn't say anything, didn't move, just squeezed back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_"I've found him"_

Bobby sagged against the wall.

"He ok?"

_"Yeah." _replied an exhausted sounding John.

Dean was under a car, a big, ugly Dodge he'd been trying to resurrect all week. He stuck his head out when Bobby came out onto the porch.

"He found him, kids fine." He said quickly.

Dean disappeared under the car again without a word. He'd been like that all week. Reticent on every subject, but particularly on the subject of is brother. If Bobby didn't know better he'd think he was sulking.

"Dean?"

No reply issued from under the vehicle. _Hell, leave him too it,_ thought Bobby to himself. _He aint got much peace and quiet left before his daddy and little brother come charging back._

Bobby stepped back inside, he set about tidying his vast, dusty, bookshelves, a mundane task to distract himself from the problem under the Dodge.

An old paperback caught his eye. Jesus it had been at least seven years since he'd opened that one.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sitting in his chair one cold, fall evening, Bobby heard a sound in the doorway. A small, pale face stared at him from the darkened kitchen._

_"Sammy?" Bobby looked up from his book._

_"Hi Bobby." The child said. Moving into the living room and standing in front of Bobby's chair. _

_"Why aren't you in bed kiddo?" He asked. " It's after ten." _

_"I want my brother." The kid replied solemnly. _

_So different from his brother. Where seven year old Dean had been extrovert and confident even in fear. Sam was the opposite, quiet, serious and he always wore his heart on his sleeve. Or rather Dean's too big, cast off pyjama sleeve. Bobby just couldn't get mad at the kid._

_"He and your Daddy will be back tomorrow Sammy."_

_"That's what they said last time." The little fella said indignantly." They were gone all week!"_

_Bobby smiled gently. "What? Don't you like it at uncle Bobby's?"_

_Sam looked worried. "I...I do but..." His voice cracked. "I'm scared of the dark." He finally admitted... "When I'm by myself." He amended. as though that changed everything._

_"Oh!" Bobby had no idea the kid was afraid of the dark. "You should have told me Sammy! I'd have left a lamp on in your room. C'mon lets go get one." He said, rising from his chair._

_'No! Please!" Sam suddenly cried out. "I...I wanna stay down here with you! I don't wanna be by myself!" The little boy looked freaking terrified, Bobby realised. _Of course, he is ya idjit! The Kids not used to sleeping alone!_ Dean had only started hunting a week or two ago, much to Bobby's disgust._

_He sighed and pulled a moth eaten blanket off the couch. "C'mon then!" He said Wrapping Sam in the blanket. " Uncle Bobby will read you a story."_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"Sam? We're here."

Sam had been thinking about the dog, even though he knew it was stupid. It wasn't really his dog after all. But still...

John had said nothing for most of the ride back, Sam wondered if he was punishing him. Trying to make him think about what he'd done...Then he remembered that if his dad wanted to punish him he'd probably be less subtle in his methods.

By the time they arrived at Bobby's it was almost Dark. They pulled into the drive to find Dean sitting on the front step drinking a beer. Sam took in the look on his brother's face and suddenly didn't want to get out of the car. John turned to him.

"Go on, go talk to your brother." He said gruffly. Sam opened the door, slowly, and walked over to him. Dean stood as Sam approached him.

"Hi Dean." Whispered Sam

Dean took a long swig of beer. Looking his brother up and down appraisingly.

"Did Dad beat you?" He asked flatly.

Sam was a little shocked at the question. Surely Dean didn't think John actually _would _have? Sam had wondered for a few seconds back in Gallup. But even then, with John ranting and raving, he didn't_ truly_ believe he would have. _Would he?_

"N..No." He stammered nervously.

"Are you ok? Anyone hurt you?" There was a strange look in his brother's eye as he asked the last question. As though someone's life hung on Sam's answer.

"No, Dean I'm ok."

Dean nodded, then reached out and slapped Sam so hard that he lost his balance and landed on his ass in the dirt. Sam sat there, stunned for several seconds. Dean stared at him, his eyes swimming with tears. Sam could Hear John exiting the car.

"Dean!"

His father's shocked voice echoed though the yard. But Dean wasn't listening. He turned around, even in the face of his father's anger, and walked away. then broke into a run as he reached the end of the drive. John reached down and helped Sam to his feet. Sam got up and dusted himself off. He was glad in a way, at least he knew how Dean felt. He touched his face. His eyes stinging, _Ow! Guess i deserved that... And worse. _

When John Walked into the house followed by a sheepish Sam, Bobby wasn't sure weather or not to shake the kid or hug him. He settled for neither. He just smiled at the dishevelled boy.

"You sure like to make life difficult for yourself don't you kid?" He said.

Sam said nothing but the ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Where's Dean?" Asked Bobby, worried.

"Gone walkabout,'' explained John. "Needed to cool off."

"I see." Said Bobby. "Well Sam, you'd best start working on an apology boy. I don't need to tell you that do I?"

Sam shook his head.

"Go on upstairs and shower for the love of God! You smell like a French gym in summertime." Bobby muttered, continuing to sort through his books. John lingered in the doorway after Sam stomped upstairs.

"You take my advice to heart John?" Bobby asked, without looking at the man. "Cause if I see a single bruise on that boy I'll fill your ass with buckshot."

John chuckled. "No Bobby, we settled it in a civilised fashion. We talked."

"You think he'll run away again?"

"I don't know." John admitted. "Bobby, You know despite what you seem to think, I do try."

"Never said you didn't." Said Bobby gruffly.

"Just that some of the problems he's having aren't problems I can fix. Y'know?" John continued. "When you're fourteen you think the world has some... Order to it, that there's some kind of... goodness and beauty in it...I can't bring that back for him."

Bobby considered what John was saying and felt overwhelming sadness for the man. He shook his head.

"No. You can't." He agreed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sam sat in Bobby's lap, wrapped in the blanket, his fears forgotten. Bobby loved how involved Sam got in stories, especially fairy tales. All hunters should read them, he thought, not only were they full of lore but they had a decent handle on good and evil and , of course, the Big Bad Wolf always bit the dust. That was a comforting thought, however unrealistic._

_This story was different, it was From Northern England. Stories from the British Isles seemed to be more about lore and less about morals._

_"And the children died, and the crops rotted - the beasts never fatted, and nothing ever did well with him; and till he was dead and buried, and m'appen even afterwards, there was no end to Yallery Brown's spite at him; day in and day out he used to hear him saying -_

_'Work as thou will_

_Thou' It never do well;_

_Work as thou mayst_

_Thou' It never gain grist;_

_For harm and mischance and Yallery Brown_

_Thou' st let out thyself from under the stone.' "_

_Concluded Bobby, looking at the little boy, who sat wide eyed in his lap._

_"He shouldn't have let him out from under the stone should he Bobby?" Obvserved Sam, sagely._

_"Nope." Replied Bobby, "But, Y'know. Yallery Brown was crying under there, and Farmer Tom thought he was doing the right thing."_

_"What was he?" Asked Sam. Assuming Bobby knew everything about everything._

"_Who?" _

"_Yallery Brown? What was he?"_

_T__he creature was probaby a brownie, kobold a forgotten Celtic God or some variation thereof, but Sam didn't need to know that. He just liked the cautionary tale and it's funny words._

_"He was Yallery Brown Sammy!" _

_Sam laughed. "He was a naughty little man!"_

_"Yes he was, you know the best advice? If you find something that looks like it shouldn't be, hiding under a rock, you leave it there."_

_"Never let it out!" Sam said vehemently. Nodding his little head._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean managed to ignore Sam when he got back that night, slipping into bed long after dark. He knew the kid was still awake, in the lower bunk, but he couldn't bring himself to speak to him. He was mad, and if he was honest, guilty as hell for walloping him earlier. He'd felt like shooting himself as soon as he'd done it. Just... Seeing Sam again had bought up every awful fear he'd had when the kid had first gone missing. Now that he was calm again he was so ashamed of himself, he couldn't even apologise.

Sam lay awake listening to his brother's breathing, He wondered if Dean could ever forgive him. It was useless to try and atone for what he'd done. Actions speak louder than words. Dean was red hot angry at him, and Sam was a little afraid to confront him again. He didn't even have a decent explanation. _I meant to come back to the motel Dean. I just... Didn't? _Yeah, that wouldn't cut it.

All through the next Day the boys avoided one another, Dean worked on the car and Sam read in his bunk. John had disappeared that morning. Bobby was researching a hunt. So far so normal. Sam sighed. Back to the old grindstone ...The life he was meant for. He wished he was back in the cabin. Free.

John pulled into the drive at 7 pm. He didn't leave the car , just beeped the horn until the boys came out into the yard.

"C'mon Boys, get in, we have something to do." He said. There was a large paper bag on the passenger seat. Dean slid wordlessly into the back, Sam looked apprehensive about joining his brother. Who was still giving him the silent treatment.

"Look lively Sam!" John snapped. Sam obeyed grudgingly. Dean moved a little further towards the door and Sam tried to keep as much distance as he could. They didn't make eye contact.

"Where are we going Dad?" Asked Dean after they'd been driving for a few minutes.

"Midway." John replied. Sam shuddered.

"Why?" Asked Dean. Sam heard an unmistakable shake in his voice.

"We have to do something we didn't do." John elaborated.

Sam considered the paper bag on the passenger seat. _Please don't be gasoline and salt._ _Fuck Dad! would you really do that to us after burning them once already? They must be ashes! Why would you dig them up? Why would you DO that? _Anger surged at his father, he clenched his fists until his knuckles were white.

When they pulled up outside the cemetery, Sam's fears were confirmed. He stole a glance at Dean. The older boy was staring out the front window, gritting his teeth.

"Dad! No!" Sam cried. He wouldn't go through with this!

John turned in his seat to look at him. At the steely look on John's face, Sam's mouth snapped shut. There would be no argument. John was just as stubborn as Sam but he'd had years more practice. John grabbed the bag from the passenger seat and called the boys to follow him.

As they made their way in the darkness, through the graves, Sam fumed. How dare he take them back here for a salt and burn! Was he punishing them? Trying to make a point? Or was he really so dense that he couldn't see what it was doing to them? Sam shivered in the chilly air.

John stopped near the centre of the cemetery, beside two small white marble headstones.

_Shelly Smith. 1970-1998_

_Beloved Daughter and mother._

and beside it

_Daphne Smith March 1998-August 1998_

the inscription beneath it read simply

_Beloved._

Sam stopped short, he looked at Dean. His expression was unreadable, then he looked at his father, who stood, stock still, in front of the headstones. It was then that Sam realised his father had no shovel.

John reached into the bag and removed a wreath of white flowers, he placed it between the graves. And turned to the boys. He had a Bible in his hands.

"They were Methodist" He explained. " She went to church every Sunday. She was in the choir."

Sam swallowed down a rising feeling of... He didn't know what. The anger was subsiding. He wanted to say something but couldn't speak around that damn lump in his throat. John continued, his gravelly voice low. He looked at them both, neither of the the boys could meet his eyes.

"Lets not forget why we do what we do." He said "Let's never forget that again..Shelly and Daphne Smith, wherever you are. I'm so sorry."

He began reading from their Bible, to honour the fallen.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..."

Sam felt the knot in his stomach unwind. The lump in his throat, that he'd been carrying for weeks, dissolved, and he let himself feel sad. Not angry or vengeful. Just plain sad. He sobbed quietly, glad of the darkness.

"...Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

John didn't falter once, even though they all knew he didn't believe in God.

Then Sam felt his brother's hand on his shoulder, he felt it shaking just as his own shoulders were shaking. He didn't look up at Dean, he'd give him his dignity. It was dark, but it wasn't that dark.

**The End**

**I hope the last chapter wasn't crap. Thank you for all the amazing reviews. I'm so surprised and delighted by them. I am considering an epilogue. Or is this a good place to end?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Mother of God! You people rock! Firstly, I don't write much really and certainly not fan fiction. I thought I'd give it a try as it might be easier to write using existing characters. So I wasn't expecting much of a response. Maybe some constructive criticism but not so much praise. So wow! Thank you all so much for sticking with my story and being so nice. and to Tuppence, who reviewed each chapter- you rock balls. Also I hope this answered your questions re-dreams. (You made a good point and I'm not sure if I really thought that part through ;-)) Anyway this is probably boring as sin as it's all talk no action but...Here goes...**

**Epilogue:**

**2010**

God doesn't care.

_God_ doesn't _care_.

Sam repeated the words in his head as the Impala meandered toward Bobby's place. It had been a long, tiring, very quiet drive. Cas had disappeared, presumably to sulk or mourn or whatever angles do when they're upset. Dean hadn't even put on the radio.

_God..._

Sam thought of a discussion... Well... Argument he'd had with pastor Jim when he was a teenager.

_'If God's so powerful then why does he care bout us and what we do? I mean come on Jim! He flooded Earth because he didn't like what we __**we're **__doing?"_

_"Sam..." Replied a frustrated Jim " That's **one** aspect of what we call God, one, very old, very tribal aspect. The Hebrews worshipped a God that punished wrongdoing. It was right for its time but..."_

_"So you don't worship the same God?" Interrupted Sam." 'Cause you use the same Bible!"_

_"Well..." Jim continued cautiously. "As I __**said**__ there are different aspects, God the Father with his strict commandments being one. "_

_'Thou shalt not..."_

_"Right! Then there's The Holy Spirit that lives in all things. Then of course there's the aspect of God that bought a commandment to __**love one another**__ into an era and place that was devoid of that understanding..."_

_"... Yeah and they killed him for it..."_

_"...Yes! Don't you see Sam, what a terrible way that was to die? Imagine just for a moment loving someone enough to be __**tortured to death**__ for their redemption! That's __**true**__ love, that's how important and powerful that commandment is...To love one another.`'_

_"And how's love going to help me Jim? I can love all I want but I'll still be stuck in this mess! If God loves us so much then why doesn't he __**help**__ us?_

_Jim Smiled at the infuriated teenager._

_"Ah! Sam, have you considered the possibility that we don't need that Fatherly guidance anymore? Maybe he gave us the ability to help ourselves?"_

He glanced at Dean. driving hell for leather down the dark highway, expressionless, hopeless. His brother, who had loved him enough to die for him. Who had ben resurrected, not as a shining beacon of hope but weakened, damaged, helpless.

_That's where love will get you_. He thought sadly. He felt ashamed at having his memories exposed to his brother like that. He could never explain to Dean how trapped and scared he'd felt back then.

How fucking _sad _that the best memories Heaven could muster for the two of them were a parental break-up, a friend's Thanksgiving and a shack in the woods!

Had he really been happy in that shack, by himself? He hadn't thought about it in _years._ He could hardly remember the feeling. Why? He'd pretty much tried not to think about that whole horrible episode ever since it ended. So why would it be a _happy_ memory?

He'd run away the night before ... He flinched at the memory of John threatening to beat him with his belt. Suddenly he was back there. In that crappy motel room in Gallup. He could almost feel the texture of John's old shirt under his cheek. He'd felt close to Dad that night, he'd felt safe and fallen asleep on his chest, and dreamed...

Of Dean, on a hardwood floor, Blood... Everywhere. But it hadn't been Dean _then_, it had been... He almost cried aloud at the realisation. It had been Dean_ now_... Or rather _before. _When his Deal came due, and he'd died in Sam's arms in that nice, middle class dining-room.

John had spent many a restless night after Flagstaff, reassuring Sam that his dreams weren't premonitions, that Demon's lie. Sam had almost believed him. But underneath all the taunting and teasing about mercy killing and dead babies, Azazel had shown him the _truth._ His brother _would_ die, he _would_ put a bullet in Madison's heart, and John _would_ order Sam to shoot him, while Dean lay bleeding on a dirty floor.

All that did actually happen.

_If only he'd trusted his instincts, he might have saved... No! No, don't think like that, you know where that leads. _

He'd run away in fear. In denial. When he realised he was alone in that hunting cabin, that his terrible destiny couldn't find him. He'd slept for nearly 24 hours. He'd felt _relived._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

The silence ended abruptly when they arrived at Singer's salvage, and Bobby discovered that they'd both been murdered earlier that day.

"God dammit!" He raged from his wheelchair. "Roy and Walt? I'm going to track those bastards down!"

"Bobby!" Dean growled. "Calm down! It's fine, We're fine. Those Jackoffs think we're dead now anyway."

"Yeah! Only because the Angels won't let you die!" Bobby huffed. Dean sighed wearily and got up, walked over to the desk and picked up a half finished bottle of Jack.

"I'm going to get drunk." He announced, and went outside into the yard. Slamming the door.

Bobby stared at Sam. Who slouched at the kitchen table. his head resting on his arm. "Dare I ask?"

"You don't wanna know Bobby. " Sighed Sam. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Dean's necklace, which he had salvaged from the trash. "Here, you should probably take this back."

Bobby looked nonplussed "What? why?"

"Dean and Cas aren't trying to find God anymore." He explained. "An Angel up there told us..." He swallowed "Told us... That he wanted us to stop looking, that he's not going to help us." He said, tilting his head down so he wouldn't have to see the look on Bobby's face.

Silence.

The pattern on the wallpaper began to blur, Sam rubbed his eyes. Then Bobby spoke up.

"Sam, tell me exactly what happened up there. I know you don't wanna talk kid, but I need to know."

Slowly the story unfolded, Sam told Bobby about the road, the memories coming to life, meeting Ash and Pamela. Bobby smiled when Sam told him She was happy. "She really is Bobby." I don't think Dean agreed. with her assessment of heaven though. He thinks it's like the Matrix., I'm inclined to agree."

"Sounds like you were both being manipulated by Zachariah Sam, I wouldn't let it get to you. "

"Yeah." Sam murmured. "Tell that to Dean. He wasn't thrilled at my heavenly memories I can tell you that much."

"How did you feel about his?" Asked Bobby.

Sam thought for a moment. "Sad." He replied with a shrug. What kind of four year old counts 'that time when Mom and Dad broke up' as a happy memory?"

"Well," Said Bobby, wheeling over to the fridge and getting them both a beer. "Kids aint that complicated. John had problems from day one and Dean lived and died by what your Daddy thought of him. It was probably kind of a relief to have him gone for a while, awful as it sounds."

"And to have Mom to himself." Sam replied. "Well, almost. I guess I was there too... But it wasn't my memory." He stared into his beer... "Bobby I just wish I'd known her."

"You do." Bobby said

"I do?"

"Sure, you know your brother. He's just like her. I mean, I never met the woman but John was always going on about how they were so alike, they were practically the same person. I think it broke his heart to tell ya that truth."

"To see Mom when he looked at Dean?"

"Sure, and not only that, to see what he'd done with her memory, with her hopes and dreams for her children too, all in one package. Imagine the guilt there. "

Sam shook his head in astonishment. "No wonder he was distant... Especially with Dean, he was..."

"...Sam make no mistake he loved you, both of you, more than life. But yeah... He was always hard on Dean."

" Sam paused for a moment, considering his question, did he really want to know the answer? "Um... Bobby? When... When I ran away to Flagstaff..."

"Sam", Bobby warned gently. "That was a long time ago, let it be, son."

"No." Sam was nothing if not determined, and the question had been burning in his mind ever since Dean had confronted him the memory of the cabin. "I want to know... When I ran away to Flagstaff, Dean came here to you right?"

"I went to him actually, John called me from hospital, he wanted me in Gallup to protect you boys but he managed to get the jump on me and arrive first."

"To find me gone?" Sam felt a chill run up his spine. "Bobby, what did he _do_?"

The older hunter sighed. "Ah, Sam you have to understand he was drugged from the hospital still and half out of his mind..."

"Bobby Just tell me!" Sam insisted, sure he wasn't going to like this one bit.

"Well... I don't know exactly but, when I got there John was a wreck and Dean was in bed sleeping but it was pretty clear he'd roughed him up a bit."

"Roughed him up?" Sam said softly, bile rising in his throat the idea... "What does _'roughed up_' mean Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged. "Bruises, Black eye." He whispered.

Sam didn't reply. He downed the rest of his beer in one. Swallowing around the awful nostalgic feeling of the lump in his throat.

"You know Sam. I know he's a pissy drunk but you should probably be asking Dean about this not me." Said Bobby , who the turned and rolled out of the room. The memories were painful for him too. Bobby didn't like dwelling on the past, too may regrets and fallen friends.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean sat out on the porch swing, his neck craned back, looking at the stars. _The Heavens. Fuck_! _What a disappointment! Heaven just as empty and meaningless as Earth. Pathetic._

There was nothing left, no hope for salvation, no Messiah for him, _them_... Although he wasn't even sure of Sam any more, bitch had always been more concerned with himself than anything else anyway.

"Speak of the Devil." He slurred as Sam sat beside him on the swing. "Was just thinking about you Sammy!"

"Dean. We need to talk " Sam began.

Dean held up his hand. "Before you start ...I'm pretty wasted right now so I probably won't retain any of your womanly wisdom." He giggled. Then stared back up at the night sky.

"Haha Dean. Look, you don't have to _listen_ to me just _hear_ me ok? I need you to know somthing... About Flagstaff. I ... Um ... Sam was already having trouble keeping his emotions in check._ Man up you dick!_ He thought to himself.

"You um... You um what Sam? just spit it out!" _There was good old drunk Dean!_ Sam found himself getting irritated. Good! irritation was easier to deal with than other stuff. Irritation he could work with.

"I didn't run away from you ok!" He snapped. "Or Dad either, not really... I.. I didn't even know why I did it at the time but I do now."

Dean was still looking upwards, seemingly absorbed in the sky. Sam wasn't even sure if he was taking any of it in, but he continued anyway. His voice softening.

"I ran away from_ this._.. He whispered, from this future. I _knew_ Dean, somewhere deep down I knew I'd do something terrible... That you would die because of me... That nothing good could come out of my life. I got away from reality, just for a little while and... I guess that was my idea of Heaven..."

He felt a hard punch to the arm

"Ow!" what was that for?"

"Bitch!" Dean hissed, Don't you _ever _say that to me again!"

"What?" Asked Sam, brow furrowed in confusion.

"That _nothing_ good could come out of your life!"

"Well? Dean look around you? I stared the apocalypse! I got you killed and sent to _Hell!"_

Dean was staring at him, totally outraged.

"You think I made that deal because I had a _gun _to my head? I did it because I _wanted_ to Sam! The whole lousy mess happened because of _my_ choice not yours... You just... Turned over the wrong freaking stone."

Sam blinked, surprised. "So... What are you saying?"

"I'm saying shut up about how all this is your fault! About how your life is supposedly some kind of curse upon the world! I wouldn't have sold my soul for someone who wasn't worth dying for! _Fuck_ Sammy! You were the only thing keeping me going half the time! The _only_ thing..." He trailed off.

They sat silently for what seemed like hours. The air began to chill, the clouds cleared. Eventually Sam broke the silence.

" It's funny how what felt good at the time can be so freaking sad in retrospect huh?"

"You can say that again." Dean murmured.

"Do you remember why we were in New Mexico to begin with? Why Dad was so hell bent on getting to Sedona? That Elephant in the room no one could talk about?"

"Sure Sammy. I think about it sometimes, even after all the awful things I've seen and ... And done." He stammered. "Even after Hell."

"Really?"

"You bet... Never forgot those pink socks." He choked a little on the words.

"What was her name again?" Asked Sam, staring out into space.

"Daphne." Supplied Dean. " She'd be a bratty teenager right about now."

Sam couldn't speak. So when Dean asked him:

"Hey Sammy, you remember that 4th of July don't you?"

All he could do was nod affirmation.

"That was awesome wasn't it?"

Sam nodded again. The sky was so clear that the stars seemed to be layered against the black, there were so may of them that they silhouetted the mountains.

"Fireworks." Dean whispered, closing his eyes.

**FIN.**


End file.
